Sands of Time
by vanillathunder215
Summary: Lucy and Desmond escape before it is discovered that Lucy managed to ruin Altair’s memory of the locations of the Pieces of Eden, leaving Abstergo with nothing…or does it? Meanwhile, Altair and Malik have to deal with new threats to the brotherhood.
1. Trickery and Deceit

Summary: Lucy and Desmond manage to escape Abstergo before it is discovered that Lucy managed to ruin Altair's memory of the locations of the Pieces of Eden, therefore leaving the Templars with nothing…or does it? Abstergo, as it turns out, had a back-up plan that many didn't know about, one that doesn't include kidnapping bartenders or even the Animus. One problem; they have to find it first. Now it's a race against time as Desmond, Lucy, and the last remaining assassins struggle to protect the one thing between the Templars and the information they need.

**2012 Abstergo**

She had done it. She had actually done it. Somehow or another Lucy had managed to not only infiltrate the Templar's company and worm her way into their plans without them knowing she was actually an assassin spy, but also managed to save Desmond from a certain death without blowing her cover. And, to top it all off, she had just completely screwed their plans up, all before bed time. Unfortunately, that meant she only had so much time before they figured it out and came for her, and Desmond. That time was quickly running out.

She strode down the hall, carrying a small bag, not wearing her usual white top, black skirt and heels, but clothes fit for an assassin making good of an escape. Though no one gave her a second thought as she passed them, she swore she could feel their eyes boring into her back. Thus, she was immensely relieved when she finally arrived at the Animus room, Desmond's room.

She found Desmond standing at the far end of the room, staring oddly at the floor, which didn't surprise her considering she had a suspicion he had figured out the code to his door a long time ago. However he didn't even look up as she entered, which was odd considering she purposefully made enough noise to alert him to her presence.

"Desmond, what are you doing?" She asked, feeling slightly nervous. Was he starting to suffer from the Bleed Effect? "What are you staring at?"

"What happened to him?" Desmond asked, ignoring her question, "To the other subject before me, I mean."

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked.

"His blood…it's everywhere." Desmond explained patiently, still not looking at Lucy, "In weird patterns and messages…on the walls of my room as well. I can't make heads or tails out of most of it, but some of it makes a little sense."

"Desmond, how can you… how are you…?"

"Able to see it? The same way Altair could see the true intentions of the people around him." He said, "I guess it's like one of those high-intensity lights that makes old body fluid stains glow…I can see the old blood stains."

Lucy's heart slammed into her throat, almost tearing a strangled cry from her. No, not now! It couldn't be happening so quickly, especially since she made sure to give Desmond as many breaks as possible! He hadn't even been in the Animus long enough to show signs of the Bleed!

"How long have you been able to use his eagle vision?" she managed to find her voice, "Please, Desmond…tell me."

"Just after that last session." Desmond answered in that oddly calm voice, finally looking up at her, "Don't get your panties in a twist it's the only so-called symptom I have of the Bleed Effect."

"You've been reading our e-mails, huh?" Lucy said, still a little nervous. She needed Desmond sane, especially now.

"Can't blame me too much." Desmond said, a flash of his old sarcastic tone coming back, "After all, you bastards drag my ass here, without any explanation, and tell me to relive my ancestor's memories, who, by the way, is a _master assassin_, skilled in the ways of gathering information, and you didn't expect that I would learn how to fucking snoop around to at least figure out what this place is and what you people do? Sorry Lucy, you never gave me much to go by."

"Well, now that you seemed to have learned all these 'master assassin' moves, let's see you do a few. Here," Lucy smirked as she tossed him the bag, "put these on. You are a little obvious wearing clothes with that logo on your front. Also, you stink."

Desmond looked at her suspiciously as he opened the bag and nearly cried out in joy when he saw the clothes Lucy had brought for him. They were his clothes, dark, the way he liked it. How she had gotten a hold of them he really didn't want to think about. They had already delved so far into his personal life that the less he thought about it the better.

"Hang on a second…why are you…?" he asked, suspicious all of the sudden. Damn you, Altair, he thought, I can't do anything without feeling suspicious.

"I did something, Desmond, something that will save us all, but will prove fatal to you and me if we stay." Lucy said, turning her back as Desmond began to strip, "It's time we left, and we need to leave now while the going is good."

"What did you do?"

"Not now. I'll explain everything once we are safely on our way."

"There's a safe place in this world still?" Desmond said sardonically.

"One or two, yes." Lucy said delicately, "preferably as far away from here as possible."

Desmond gave her a long look but didn't say anything. Lucy couldn't help but notice how much like Altair Desmond had become. In the past, he had always had a sarcastic or cynical reply to everything. Now he took everything in silently and coldly, not speaking unless it was necessary.

"Ready? Alright, let's go." Lucy said, still feeling a little apprehensive. She felt like she was walking not with Desmond, but with Altair.

XxXxXx

**1191 Masyaf**

Ordinarily the feel of the cold night air felt good to him, but tonight it felt like a stinging slap in the face. Altair's world was falling apart around him; everything he had known, everything he had been told, had been trained to do, had been taken from him and ripped to pieces. His own master, the man he had trusted, the one he was supposed to be able to trust, was dead, killed by Altair's own blade. All for a small insignificant silver ball. All for the greed for power that they had fought against for so long.

It made no sense to Altair. Why fight for peace, when all the Piece of Eden would do was take it away by making all the people mindless machines that would readily kill each other for the 'master'? Why throw everything one had worked so hard for, had believed so readily in? Or had Al Mualim really believed in their cause? Had he just been pretending all this time? Had Altair been a pawn for most of his 25 years of life, or just the past few weeks? The past few months? The past few years?

Altair sighed loudly, dropping his head in his hands. Everything was such a mess now; the assassin's had no leader in the time they needed one most, their master had just betrayed them so who was to say they could ever trust each other ever again? To add to Altair's stress, he had the Piece of Eden he hadn't been able to bring himself to destroy to worry about and, the icing on the cake, he had just heard earlier that day that William of Montferrat's son, Conrad, sought revenge for his father's death. Altair let out another frustrated sigh; it just never seemed to end.

"You've been out here for quite some time, my friend." A familiar voice came from behind him, causing him to jump.

"I couldn't stand listening to the bickering much longer." Altair admitted, quickly regaining his composure when he saw Malik coming toward him.

"That I can definitely agree with." Malik said with a laugh, "But then, this is a highly unusual situation so no one is really sure what to do. As you and I have done so many countless times in the past; when unsure of what to do, fight over it."

"We weren't nearly as bad as they are." Altair said sourly.

"I think there are several people who would disagree with that statement, Altair."

Altair glanced side-ways at Malik, whose mouth was twitching from the barely suppressed grin. "Alright, alright, so a few of our arguments echoed around the room, maybe carried down a hall or two…and sometimes the courtyard…oh fine, pretty much the entire fortress, but not for _that_ long!"

"Whatever you say." Malik rolled his eyes, some things about Altair would never change, "Now will you at least tell me what's bothering you?"

"What makes you say anything is bothering me?"

"Really Altair, you're a horrible liar." Malik scowled, "Further more, you're quiet, which could be seen as a blessing but when you remain silent even when someone like Sayid starts getting in your face, there's something wrong. God save us, you didn't even react to it! You've changed, that much I'll give you, but not to that extent."

"Maybe, maybe not." Altair shrugged. He had no energy left to deal with the likes of Sayid, as aggravating though the man might be.

"You're still upset about Al Mualim." Malik stated rather than asked. When Altair didn't say anything he kept going, "You're wondering if you can ever trust someone like that ever again. Hell, you're starting to doubt everything we've ever believed in yourself."

"He used me…like a damn fool, he used me and I nearly brought totally destruction on the brotherhood _again_!" Altair leaped to his feet, pacing like a caged tiger, "Now we are without a leader and might be in danger from an enemy we really don't want to have."

"We don't even know if that's true or not so don't worry about that." Malik said, unperturbed at his friend's outburst, "Second, he used us all. Need I remind you, for the forty six thousand and two times, that it was I who brought back the God damned treasure? No, shut up and listen!" he snapped, seeing Altair open his mouth to argue, "At least I'm getting some sort of response from you. Yes, you screwed up, but we all do at some point. Yours just happened to have more of an impact that most. But it's done, it's over with, you've obviously learned from it, thank God, so put it behind you. The brotherhood is disorganized and we need someone like you to remain strong now more than ever."

"I already told you…"

"Yes I heard you." Malik sighed, "And I agree with you. Can you imagine yourself as master with your organization skills? It would be a nightmare. No, you are better off in the field where you can put your skills to good use. Look, let me worry about the politics of the brotherhood. I know you hate it so act as my 'left arm', so to speak, and let me know what's going on around us. We can't afford to be vulnerable now."

Altair nodded, feeling far more at ease. Malik had always been the more patient one, more able to deal with politics. Altair couldn't stand it and would rather be force-fed his hidden blade than play the political game. However, he still had one nagging thought on his mind.

"What about the Piece of Eden?" he asked.

"What about it?" Malik asked as he rose to leave, "If you can't destroy it, than at least hide the damn thing. The bottom of the gorge sounds good."

Altair took a big breath and let it out, dispelling the last of the tension from his body. As he did so, his mind quit jumping from one thing to another, allowing him to clearly view his situation. Malik had asked him to protect the brotherhood during their vulnerability. He could do that, and do that well, and he wasn't about to let anyone down this time. He already had one rumor in mind that he intended to prove or refute. But first…

Carefully he pulled the Piece of Eden out from his belt pouch, turning it over in his hands. There was another piece of advice he intended to follow.

XxXxXx

A/N: This story was written around 4:30 in the morning on Sat. Sept, 13. I say this because I was writing this out old school with my trusty pen and notebook…even more old school; it was written by candlelight (that's right, I said candles) because I had no power thanks to hurricane Ike. Altair, Malik and OC became my best friends while I listened to 80mph winds hammer my window. In fact, I was so scared (and a little bored after the storm was mostly over and I had no power) that I pretty much have most of the story written, it's just a matter of getting it from paper to computer and fixing some mistakes I made in my hasty, scared shitless writing. Any-who-how-ways, tell me what ya think in review form (nudgenudge winkwink)

-Vanillathunder215


	2. Fight or Flee

"Lucy are you sure about this?" Desmond asked hesitantly, "There is no way we are just going to walk out of here like a pair tourists."

"Would you stop whining already?" Lucy snapped, scowling at him, "I told you I have an idea."

"That's reassuring." Desmond grumbled, "This comes from the woman who works for people whose 'bright ideas' include kidnapping bartenders and taking over the world with a silver ball."

Lucy chose not to respond to him and silently led the way to the service elevator. As the doors slid open, she pushed Desmond back, motioning him to hold the doors open while she slid around along the wall before stretching herself up to slap a small black sticker on a opaque piece of glass positioned in the corner.

"Amazing how the simplest things can still work." Lucy said, motioning Desmond to join her. "No one really watches this particular elevator but there's no need to take any chances just yet."

"Nah, plenty of time for that later." Desmond replied sarcastically, "Wait…why the roof?"

"You really don't like surprises do you?"

"Not when they involve the roof of a fucking tall building."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me."

Lucy refused to answer any more of his questions the rest of the ride to the roof, which increased his anxiety tenfold. He wasn't overly fond of heights, he usually got anxious whenever he witnessed Altair climb up tall buildings and the first time he had performed a leap of faith Desmond had almost screamed out loud. Why did he keep thinking that Lucy was going to ask him to perform a leap of faith off the building?

Up on the roof the wind buffeted them mercilessly, making Desmond even more uncomfortable. Lucy, thankfully, didn't go near the edge and look around, a sure sign of an impending jump, but rather scanned the skies. Desmond took a few shaky steps to join her and looked up, more out of trying to get his mind off the other direction than out of curiosity of what she was looking for. Then he spotted an eagle, soaring effortlessly in the wind. For a moment, Desmond thought nothing of it. There were plenty of eagles all over the holy land.

Wait…the holy land? Whoa, Desmond, he told himself, wrong time and place. You are _not_ Altair!

"There she is. Alright, ready to go?" Lucy asked, "Desmond…are you ok?"

"Yeah, just peachy." He replied, rubbing his eyes.

"Ok, in a few minutes there's going to be a convoy of Air Force jets and cargo planes going overhead. One of them is going to fly low enough to drop a rope to pick us up. We only have one shot at this so- LOOK OUT!"

Desmond was thrown completely off-guard as Lucy suddenly threw herself at him, knocking him flat on his back. Taser prongs flew in front of him, landing harmlessly where he had been moments earlier.

"Don't move!" a deep voice ordered, "Surrender peacefully now and we won't tell Vidic about your little escape attempt. Thank you, Miss Stillman, for tracking him down."

They looked up to see two men wearing Abstergo security uniforms standing by the roof exit, both holding guns with the business end pointed at Desmond. For a long moment, no one moved, mostly due to shock and slight disbelief, but a shrill cry quickly shattered the ice.

The eagle came streaking down from the sky, raking one man's face with its sharp talons. The other cried out in surprise and quickly glanced skyward for crazed birds of prey but the real threat was actually in front of him. By the time he glanced back down, both Desmond's and Lucy's fists slammed into his face at the same time, dropping him like sack of potatoes.

"That was almost disappointingly easy." Desmond said, rubbing his knuckles, "I expected a bit more out of Abstergo."

"Just thank God that that was all." Lucy said, "Any more and we would have missed our plane. Good thing Raja was around to lend us a hand…or talon." She motioned towards the eagle.

Desmond opened his mouth to say something but the air was suddenly filled with the deep roar of several plane engines, making it difficult to hear. Suddenly the air was filled with planes, mostly cargo planes, bearing the US Air Force insignia. Lucy grabbed his arm and pointed to one plane that was flying noticeable lower than the others. A rope ladder dropped from it as it approached. But Desmond noticed something off…something that filled his very soul with dread.

"They're too far off! They can't get over the roof!" Lucy yelled, though Desmond had already come to the same conclusion, "We'll have to jump!"

"Jump? Jump! Are you crazy!?" Desmond screamed, his voice jumping several octaves.

"Would you rather stay here?" Lucy taunted, "Come on, you jumped many times with Altair."

"That was different!"

"Chicken!"

"Damn straight!"

"Coward!"

That did it. Desmond refused to be called a coward under any circumstances. Be it his own pride or some of Altair's that got infused in him thanks to the Bleed, he wouldn't let that insult slide so easily. Lucy smiled to herself as she saw Desmond's face harden. She had won, again.

"Leap of faith, Desmond, leap of faith!"

Then they ran together, hand in hand, towards the roof. Before Desmond could give his mind any time to think about it, he put his foot on the ledge and leaped out into open space.

XxXxXx

Masyaf 1191

"Are you sure about this?" Malik asked, more curious than skeptical, "It is just a rumor after all. You could be chasing ghosts…or running head first into a trap."

"All the more fun getting out then." Altair said, more to annoy Malik than anything, "And Acre is filled with far worse things than ghosts."

"Yes we all know about your run-in with that crazy beggar." Malik said.

Altair's glare could have frozen the Dead Sea but Malik was far too used to it to be affected. Besides, he was having a hard enough time trying not to laugh.

"That was completely unnecessary." Altair said coldly, "She…I…God dammit, she was chasing me and _**will you stop laughing**_!"

Malik was in hysterics watching Altair stutter, "Altair, you certainly have a deluded view of the situation!" he said between bouts of laughter, watching Altair's face burn as a few nearby assassins turned to regard the pair, "You took off like a scared pigeon! That wench popped up out of nowhere and scared you half to death! No one runs flat out for half a mile when there are _no guards chasing them!_"

"Would you shut up already!" Altair growled, face red with embarrassment.

"And miss seeing you squirm with humiliation? I don't think so."

"Somehow, running head-first into a trap planned by Templars who desperately want my head is far more preferable than putting up with this." Altair said, half under his breath.

"Alright, alright." Malik said, "Go and see what you can find out, if it'll make you feel better. Just try to not get into trouble this time. Oh, and Badoura wants to talk to you before you go. She said that if I forget to tell you or if you just skip out that she would feed both of us to Ghaddar."

In all honesty, Altair had no problem going to see Badoura. Besides her room being just down the hall from his own, she wouldn't try to humiliate him unless she felt he deserved it.

He didn't even bother knocking on her door, knowing she was waiting for him. He was greeted by a low growling as an immense white lioness trotted over. Normally the sight of a lion sent people running, especially if it was coming towards them, but this lioness was different. Altair actually crouched down and playfully tackled the creature amid an assault of friendly swipes and gentle bites. The lioness, Ghaddar, was a pet, as much as a lion could be a pet, and was as playful as she was menacing.

"Still hell-bent on going to Acre to investigate this rumor, little brother?" came a heady voice over the lioness' growls.

Altair looked up to see the only person to ever call him "little brother" and live to tell of it watching them amusedly from a pile of cushions across the room. Not that he could ever raise a hand to her even if he wanted to; Badoura would slice him up faster than he could blink, either with her tongue or an actual blade.

He smiled at her as a way of greeting and untangled himself from Ghaddar so he could go sit next to her. She was beautiful, tall and lithe with bronzed skin, long waves of dark brown hair and light chestnut eyes, but there was a deadly air about her, like there was a coiled snake in her ready to strike. Altair was familiar with it; he had helped bring it out in her so long ago.

See, Malik, Altair and Badoura had arrived at the fortress as children at the exact same time. Altair and Malik to become assassins and Badoura to work there. It wasn't long before Altair and Malik had become friends and once, during their forays throughout the place, came across Badoura being literally pushed around by another novice who was known to be a rather vicious bully. They had watched, rather impressed, as she spit in his face with the accuracy of a spitting cobra and kicked him where it really hurts. Unfortunately he had recovered enough before she make good of her escape to grab her by her long hair and drag her to the ground. She had screamed, not in fear, but in rage and had tried to bite him but by then Altair and Malik had decided to intervene. Three against one was too much for the bully and he had taken off rather quickly. Badoura, who was ready for the usual condescending attitude of her rescuers, was taken by surprise by their admiration and the three had quickly formed a friendship that would turn the fortress upside down and backwards with their antics.

But as they grew older it quickly became clear that Badoura had other uses besides a servant. She had, thanks to the training of her two "little brothers" in the dark of night, developed an uncanny ability to pick up information as well as slip in and out of places unnoticed. Not only that but she also had a rather motherly streak in her, hence her fondness for her "little brothers", and was as rather accomplished healer. Long story short, Al Mualim had noticed her abilities and allowed her to become the first 'unofficial' assassin.

"Malik tell you I was going to Acre or are you guessing?" Altair asked.

"You killed William of Montferrat in Acre, yes?" Badoura asked, one eyebrow arching, "So it makes sense that the rumor concerning the man's son would lead you to start hunting in Acre. Besides, I might know a thing or two concerning this."

"Is that why you asked to see me?"

"Among other things, yes."

"Such as…?"

"Malik told me of your discussion last night."

"Big-mouthed bastard." Altair muttered under his breath. Unfortunately, Badoura heard him.

"What? He's worried, as am I." she said, "You've been acting…off, so to speak, which is to be expected given recent events, but what I'm more concerned about is you using this rumor just as an excuse to stay away."

"What?" Altair asked, perplexed.

"Or run away, if that makes more sense." Badoura said bluntly, "Do you truly believe in this little mission of yours or are you running away?"

"I'm coming back." Altair pointed out, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"You misunderstand me." She said gently, rubbing Ghaddar's ears, "I know you'll come back, you'll always come back. I'd track you down myself. What I meant was; are you running away from the pain I know you carry in your heart instead of facing it?"

Altair was silent for a long moment. Was he really running away? His mind swirled in all different directions, trying to discern exactly where he stood in this. One thing kept popping up though; whenever he thought about someone trying to attack the brotherhood again, his heart burned with rage. But on the other hand, the thought of staying within the fortress walls right now hurt. He felt like a trapped horse, edgy and skittish, and he wanted nothing more than to get away, for a little while, at least.

"Maybe both, then." He finally answered, "I promised Malik I wouldn't allow the brotherhood to become vulnerable at this time and I intend to keep that promise, though I can't deny I want to get out for a little while."

Badoura beamed at him, "And that's exactly what I wanted to hear. If you had said you were running, you would have scared me to the point where I wouldn't have allowed you to leave this room, but had you denied that pain I would have beaten you over the head."

"Of that I have no doubt." Altair said, wondering why he had ever taught her to be so competent in combat, "I believe you said earlier you had some information?"

"Yes and you're lucky." She said, "I'm not going to ask for any favors…this time. Well, William of Montferrat's son, Conrad, has arrived in Acre not three days ago from Tyre, occupying his father's old residence. Be wary, however, for Conrad is not as foolish as his father, despite other rumors. He keeps himself very well protected and, unlike his father, has no intentions of betraying Richard. By all accounts, and from what I have seen myself, he is a very good-looking man, persuasive, and smart in his means of persuasion, using pictures to help sway the dumber herds of people, which are quite graphic, I might add. Not in any way persuasive to you or me or anyone with half a brain but there are far more ignorant people out there than those who actually use their heads. Don't make me have to take that statement back later, by the way."

" 'Good-looking'?" Altair teased, "Been sight seeing in Acre as well as listening?"

"Knock it off, Altair, before I remove your tongue" Badoura warned, then turned serious, "Akh, I can't warn you enough to be careful…this man is very dangerous. He won't simply kill you; he'll torture you to death over a course of weeks."

"I will be." Altair said, a familiar cocky smile spreading over his face, "He will never know I'm even there. Besides, I've been in and out of that place before…I know it a bit better than he does."

Badoura sighed. Some things just never change.

XxXxXx

2012

Desmond felt a familiar rush as he hung over nothing. Adrenalin pounded in his veins, making him feel slightly giddy, and his heart hammered in terrified excitement. His eyes locked on the rope ladder, zeroing his vision on that. It seemed to move in slow motion, making it very easy for him to reach out and grab it, pulling Lucy along with him. It seemed like nothing; he had done far more difficult things than this, jumped farther distances to grab onto not-so-cooperative walls or roofs, like the cathedral in Acre, or the temple in Jerusalem. He quickly climbed hand over hand up the rope, throwing Lucy onto his back where she clung in stupefied shock. This was child's play.

It wasn't until they got inside that the magnitude of what he had just done hit Desmond like a ton of bricks.

"H-holy sh-shit!" he stammered, quickly skittering away from the door, "That was totally fucked! I can't believe I just fucking did that!"

"Altair picked a good time to come through." Lucy said dryly as she stood, noticing that Desmond had a habit of cussing more than normal when he was excited. Quickly she glanced around the plane; empty, save a small crate against the far wall. Just the way it was supposed to be.

Gently she tugged at Desmond's shoulder and led him over to the crate, tugging it open and pulling out two bottles of water. They were going to be in for a long ride.

Desmond sighed as they leaned back against the wall of the plane, feeling greatly comforted by the rumble of the engines beneath him. To him, it was the sound of freedom. Neither he nor Lucy said anything for a while as they tried to catch their breath. They couldn't even if they wanted to; the engines made far too much noise. Finally, after about an hour or so, when they were convinced that Templars weren't going to descend upon them as they sat there, that Desmond finally turned to Lucy and asked the question he had been burning to know.

"I think this would be considered safely away now." Desmond said, "So, where are we going, what the hell just happened and, most importantly, _what the hell did you do?"_

"I'll answer what I did first; it will help make sense of everything else." Lucy said, ignoring his little outburst, "What I did was that I messed up that memory of the Piece of Eden."

A moment of silence followed her statement, punctuated only by the roar of the engines. Desmond stared at her for a moment, unable to really comprehend what he had just heard. Did she really just say…?

"Whoa, whoa, hold up." Desmond said, throwing his hands up, "How did you mess that up? I was there; there was no glitch to it! I saw the Piece of Eden show all the locations of all the others!"

"Ah, yes, but that is where you are wrong." Lucy smiled, " 'nothing is true, everything is permitted'. Remember that I'm an assassin spy? I controlled the Animus, not Vidic, me. I had been ready for that memory for a long time, setting up the right programs and making sure no one would take notice. When the memory finally came up, I allowed my pet program to run, taking that memory and scrambling the Piece of Eden locations. None of it was true, Desmond. Abstergo is on a wild goose chase thanks to me, which was why we had to leave and fast. It wouldn't be long before they realized they had been tricked and killed both you and me. I couldn't let that happen."

"So that memory technically was glitched?"

"In a way, yes. Didn't you find it weird that Malik, nor his men, never said anything when they joined Altair? Or that they just stood there without moving _at all_? That was my program's only problem…it couldn't reproduce the exact actions of the memory as well as scramble it. Fortunately it blended well with moment so no one really noticed. Plus the scramble is permanent. They will never uncover the true memory…not without you at least."

Desmond nodded, truly impressed, "Nice. So, Abstergo is now on a bogus national treasure hunt and we are hitch hiking on a US air force cargo plane in a desperate attempt to 'fly free' to…. where?"

"The only assassin stronghold left. Remember I told you that the stronghold where your parents lived had been found deserted? What I didn't have the time or the security to reveal to you was that they had gone into hiding not far from Masyaf, ironically. Basically, I'm taking you home Desmond."

Desmond stayed silent, digesting this new bit of news. He was happy that his parents had escaped, but he had felt a surge of excitement when Lucy had mentioned Masyaf. She had said he was going home but since when did he call the desert home?

XxXxXx

Just a couple little backgrounds for names I picked in case anyone wants to know.

Ghaddar (Badoura's white lioness)- a possibly female demon in the deserts if the Red Seas countries. It catches travelers and tortures them by eating their genitals.

Badoura- heroine of the story camaralzaman and the princess in the Arabian Nights stories. Reputably the "most beautiful woman ever seen upon earth".

Akh- Arabic for "brother"

Yes, yes, I know Desmond and Lucy's escape wasn't very exciting but there's a reason for that and I'm not telling just yet. You'll find out soon enough. The same goes for Badoura…she has her own part to play later on.

Also a warning that I forgot to mention in the first chapter; just like the creators of the game, my historical facts and dates might just be off a little bit so if your historically anal like my sophomore year history teacher was, I apologize in advance. The rest of you might not even notice.

Here's to electricity!

-Vanillathunder215


	3. Lack of Faith

1911

Altair trotted along the dusty roads, Zauba'a, his grey stallion, practically bouncing beneath him with energetic enthusiasm, seemingly as eager as he was for an adventure. Altair was almost envious of the beautiful horse. Zauba'a got to live the life of pure exhilarating adventure of travel, fleeing guards and soldiers, the occasional fight where he got to either kick the crap out of any foolish enough to go behind him or literally run them off a cliff and the thrill of being able to run faster than the wind. The stallion never had to worry about betrayals, unless it was Altair being late in feeding him, or the hidden intensions of men or the revenge of enemies. He never felt the pain Altair felt.

Altair urged him to a canter, enjoying the smooth strides as Zauba'a long legs ate up the ground. At the rate they were going, they would easily arrive in Acre in just a few days time.

He didn't bother checking in at the bureau. All the rafiqs were in Masyaf anyway and he wasn't exactly here on an assassination mission. Besides, he didn't really plan on staying that long. If luck was with him, he would be out of Acre in a few days. But if his luck held to its current course…he might find himself here for over a week.

For some odd reason, all the tension that had been building while he had been on his killing streak was gone. The guards seemed almost…lazy. So lazy, in fact, that he was willing to wager that he could walk right up to one of them and blatantly tell them he was a hashishan assassin and they wouldn't do anything about it. Well, maybe not to that extent, but their lax attitudes confused and worried him some. Either the death of Robert de Sable had popped the tension bubble or the arrival of Conrad had had a bigger effect than he had thought.

He continued on through the streets, not even bothering to imitate a scholar, completely undisturbed. But then he noticed something else; while the guards and soldiers seemed laid back, the people certainly weren't. Woman went around in tight groups, eyeing any man who came too close warily. Merchants kept a closer eye on their wares and the thugs kept one hand on their belt pouches at all times, which would prove irritating should Altair run out of throwing knives. But what he noticed most was the total lack of gossiping. Most of the time people were very open-mouthed about the going-ons of the city. All Altair had to do was sit on a bench and listen but everyone seemed tight-lipped. Anxiety was starting to set in, urging Altair to get to a roof top and fast. He glanced around as casually as he could, quickly spotting a ladder and making a beeline towards it. He got halfway up when he heard a guard shout.

"Hey, you! Stop!"

Altair shot the rest of the way up the ladder before spinning around to see how many guards were running after him.

Which were none, to his dumb-faced surprise. Instead, several guards were closing around a pretty young woman. The woman was insisting, in an increasingly shrill voice that grated everyone's nerves, that she had done no wrong.

"For the love of God." Altair muttered to himself as the woman started getting pushed around, "Have they nothing better to do with their time?"

Quickly he checked over his arsenal of equipment, making sure everything was ready to go before doing a spectacular leap from the roof, snapping out his hidden blade as he landed on one of the guards, sliding the cold steel into his neck.

Everything was still and silent for about one second before the on looking crowd realized that the man was dead. Then all hell broke loose as they panicked. The ensuing confusion and chaos was just what Altair had banked on and, with a wicked grin spreading across his face, he calmly clicked the hidden blade back into its housing and drew out his sword, relishing in the feel of the sudden rush of adrenalin pumping through his system.

"Infidel!" One over eager guard shouted as he charged Altair. He swung his sword in a clever sideswipe that, after Altair easily dodged it, quickly reversed the swing and brought it back towards the assassin's unprotected left side. But Altair had seen the shift in weight and had already reacted appropriately, bringing his own blade to bear and deftly knocking it out of the way. With the guard off-balance and very vulnerable, Altair moved in quickly, dancing around behind the man to sever the tendons in his legs before bringing the sword down in a vicious chop that nearly took the upper right portion of his body completely off.

The remaining 3 guards were visibly shaken, one more so than the others, but that didn't stop two of them from attacking at the same time, believing that safety in numbers was the way to go. But to an assassin who had successfully fended off a dozen templars at the same time after 3 days of non-stop fighting, two lazy city guards with the skills of a 5 year-old were absolutely nothing. He blocked the swipe of one, countering with a quick punch to the stomach that left him wheezing on the ground and immediately took out the other by flipping a throwing knife into his right eye. Casually he walked past the slightly recovered guard, who was just starting to struggle to his feet, impaling him on his sword as he went past and moved towards the remaining guard, who was cowering before the assassin.

"No, no, please…" he moaned in a way that Altair found rather pathetic. This was a man who was supposed to help protect the city? "Don't…don't kill me."

"Are the rumors true?" Altair asked, deciding to use this golden opportunity to get some answers, "Is William of Montferrat's son here in Acre?"

"Yes, he arrived just the other day from Tyre." The guard babbled, "Can't say much about the man…he stays in his castle."

"Any idea why he's come?"

"No, he won't say though he is planning something…all his men seem rather eager."

"Is that all?"

"That's everything! No one tells us anything!"

"Then you are of no more use to me." Altair slammed his hidden blade home into the guard's neck. Now more than ever he didn't want anyone to know he was here. If Conrad got wind that the assassin who killed his father was here…

"Sir?" Altair started, having completely forgotten about the woman he had saved, "I wanted to thank you for saving me…I, uh, I heard you asked that guard about Conrad?"

"Just curious is all." Altair said evasively, ducking his head so she couldn't see his face, "I suggest you go home…don't make any mention of me while you're at it. You'll be safer that way."

"Wait." She grabbed his arm as he turned to go, nearly making him jump out of his skin…and nearly taking hers from her body at the same time, "I think I can help you, if you're really _that_ curious."

Altair glanced suspiciously at her.

"In case you haven't noticed, most of us here are pretty much mum." She said, quickly removing her hand from his arm as he gave her a pointedly dangerous look, "We are scared…but I have heard a few things that might interest you."

"Not here." Altair motioned to the pile of bodies and the new pile of on lookers, "Up there."

Suddenly he grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the ladder he had scaled earlier, yanking her onto his back and, ignoring her sudden gasp of surprise and fear, flew up the ladder. He practically had to peel her off his back her grip was so tight.

"Fear of heights?" he asked irritated when he finally got her off.

"Sort of." She said, quickly regaining her composure, "About that information…what exactly do you want to know?"

Instantly Altair's suspicion meter rose from slightly to extremely. No one ever asked that if they weren't being interrogated, especially not regular citizens who only gossiped. Besides…she had regained her composure far too quickly for someone who should have been rather shaken after she had just gone through. Slowly he ran the thumb of his left hand over the ring that triggered the hidden blade on his little finger. Something was off.

"Who are you?" he asked instead, grey eyes narrowed.

"My name is Fatima." She said, "I'm the daughter of a carpet merchant."

Altair's suspicion didn't abate; rather, it did the opposite. Either people were starting to pronounce names differently or this woman had just mispronounced her own name. It wasn't a very pronounced slip, but he had heard it none-the-less.

"Try again." He growled, moving his feet slightly into a more battle-ready stance.

She stared at him, her eyes unreadable. Definitely not the eyes of someone who should be taken back, or at least curious, as to why he was asking that. Then her face changed, going from innocent battered young woman, to something cold and hard, something akin to Badoura when she was really angry. Something Altair generally tried to avoid at all costs.

"You should have stayed in Masyaf, assassin." She said, "You should have stayed home. I'm sorry. Get the assassin!"

Soldiers suddenly swarmed out of nowhere, from behind towers, roof gardens, up ladders and jumping over gaps. Even more swarmed on the ground, cutting off Altair's escape. Save one.

Altair's quick eyes spied one slim possibility and he instantly took it, not really wanting to stick around to see what they truly wanted. He charged toward two guards, who immediately set themselves up to block him but he instead used them as a springboard to launch himself most of the way up the tall tower behind them. He scrambled madly up the side, immensely relieved that he was such a good free-runner, while arrows clicked off the wall below and beside him.

"Can't you fools actually hit anything?" he heard the woman yell. He smirked as he reached the top. Almost home free, almost…there! He saw a hay cart sitting down below. Without a second thought he leaped off the tower, falling down to the street below.

He had leaped off buildings thousands of times over the years and each time he had landed safely. He loved performing the leap of faith; it provided him a few moments of absolute freedom he couldn't enjoy otherwise. However, he never expected what happened next.

One arrow, shot by accident, nailed him in his calf muscle, slicing easily through his worn boots and tearing through skin and muscle. It wasn't the pain that did it, Altair was trained to ignore pain, but it was the fact that the arrow had knocked him off balance that did it. He began to flip through the air uncontrollably, knocking him farther out than his intended target…right onto the ledge of the wall behind it.

The air was knocked out of him in a rush as his ribs took the full weight of the fall. Strange, he didn't remember air sounding like the crack of a whip. Dazed and injured, he slipped off the ledge and landed heavily on the street some 20 feet below. He was dimly aware of people shouting and screaming, of the soldiers screaming at each other, some in languages he didn't understand, and of that damn woman, the one who had tricked him, screeching orders.

Panic suddenly filled him. He needed to get away…but how could he when he couldn't even get up?

XxXxXx

2012

The plane ride seemed to take forever. Desmond could have sworn they had flown to the moon and back at least three times. When he tried to get more information out of Lucy, she either didn't know herself or was aggravatingly mum. Defeated, he tried to sleep but the cold metal floor, coupled with his anxiety, prevented any such notion. So he was left to stare at the metal wall.

"Maybe you can tell _me_ something." Lucy said, breaking the silence.

"What's that?"

"You told me that you didn't view your parents as parents." She said slowly, as if unsure how to broach the subject, "That you were their prisoner and they the wardens. Yet, when Vidic mentioned the raid in the desert, you seemed rather worried. When I told you that they were still alive, you looked relieved. Did you change your mind or did being in the animus change your views about a lot of things?"

Desmond was silent, slightly startled at the thought. "You know, I never looked at it that way. I guess…I guess when I told you that stuff earlier I was still pissed off. But later…well, let's just say that being held captive for over a week by crazy Templars and being forced to watch your assassin ancestor's memories about a mind-controlling Piece of Eden tends to change your view on things."

Lucy laughed, "Yeah, I can see why that would happen."

"My father was right." Desmond said suddenly, "He always said to be ready. Nothing ever happened out there but now I know that nothing happening is a good thing. I was being stupid."

"Everyone has their moments, Desmond." Lucy said gently, "Yours was just more noticeable than most."

"You've told me that before and it didn't really work the first time." Desmond said.

"Huh?" Lucy frowned, "I've never told you that before. We've never even talked about this before. What you are talking about?"

Desmond blinked. "I…uh…"

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say someone told that to Altair." Lucy said, "Desmond, be honest with me. How often do you feel Altair within you?"

"Lucy he's my _ancestor_." Desmond said wearily, "He's literally in my blood."

"Don't get smart…" Lucy started to say when suddenly they felt the plane start to descend, cutting her off as she felt like her belly was trying to crawl up her throat.

"Oh no. I hate this part." She moaned.

"What, you can jump off a building but not a plane landing?"

"Desmond, shut up."

"Yes ma'am."

The plane continued it's steep descent for several minutes before they heard a loud grinding noise as the landing gear came out. Their ears popped as the pressure suddenly changed. Desmond could hear them getting closer and closer to ground before…

The pilot landed rather roughly, making the two passengers bounce around in the hold. Lucy fell on top of Desmond, who caught her and held her tight, though it was rather unnecessary as she grabbed hold of him in a death grip. Fortunately it didn't last long and soon they were rolling smoothly along.

Lucy suddenly seemed to realize she was in Desmond's arms and quickly scrambled out rather indignantly, causing Desmond to laugh at her.

"I think maybe you picked up some of Altair's more undesirable traits." She snapped, "Like his uncanny ability to be an ass."

"Nope, that one was all mine all along."

Several hours later found them walking through a large dusty city that reminded Desmond strongly of a rather modern looking Damascus. Which of course, there was a modern Damascus, but Desmond had only seen the smaller, more medieval one.

"Where are we?" he asked Lucy.

"I was wondering if you ever going to ask."

"I asked on the plane at least a dozen times."

"I didn't want anyone to overhear us." Lucy explained, "It doesn't matter now. We are in Hama."

"That gives me nothing." Desmond huffed, "Geography was never my strong point."

"Among other things." Lucy teased, "Sorry, couldn't help that. Anyway, Hama is a Syrian city, one of the largest in the country. We are about 40 miles east of Masyaf."

"So is Hama an assassin city?"

"Uh no. That would be nice but no." Lucy said, "Also I would refrain from mention a certain 'A' word while we're here. People tend to get jumpy, just like in Altair's time, when that word is mentioned, if you get my drift."

"Yeah, sure, sorry." Desmond said distractedly, attention on his surroundings, "I'll keep that in mind."

Lucy smiled to herself and let him sightsee while she led him to the outskirts of the city. She noticed that, as they left behind the city and their surroundings melted into the desert, Desmond kept looking out over the desert with something akin to longing. Was that Desmond watching the sunset over the sand dunes, or was it Altair longing to run free of the confines of the city?

She sighed, knowing there was no true way of knowing. She just wanted to get to the stronghold. Being out in the open, more or less as fugitives, was making her nervous. Not only that but the sun was going down and there was no way in hell she was going to be caught out in Hama after dark.

Finally she spotted a dilapidated building shrouded by bushes. Upon closer inspection it proved to be nothing more than a crumbled mud building that might have been a shop or house at one point but was long ago abandoned. It was in here that Lucy led her charge. To his credit, Desmond remained silent, though Lucy knew he was curious. Or was he?

She glanced back at him. He was staring up at the darkening sky.

"Now what are you looking at?" she asked, partly to herself.

"Just looking for stars." He said, pointing up, "I haven't really seen them since I ran away. Look; first star. What's that old saying? If you make a wish on the first star you see it'll come true?"

Lucy followed his gaze and saw a bright star gleaming in the dusky sky. She remembered the old saying, but she had no faith in it. What sense was it to make a wish on something that was light-years away from earth? Heck, half the stars they saw in the night-sky were dead. Why would a dead star make your wish come true?

"If only they could." She murmured, "Come on, the door is around here somewhere. Look at stars later; I want to get inside."

They headed deeper into the remains of the house, both feeling slightly more at ease for some reason. Up in the sky, the star, the brightest of the constellation Aquila, glittered.

XxXxXx

Acre 1191

The woman continued to screech out orders to the soldiers, grinding Altair's already frayed nerves.

"Shut up, damn you!" he ground out painfully. Anger, yes! His reeling mind grabbed onto that anger like drowning man would a lifeline and used it to focus.

"Get up, Ibn La-Ahad." He snarled at himself, "Get up, move, or you're Templar bait."

He forced himself up and made his legs move. Never mind the pain that flared in his chest or his leg, never mind that he found it difficult to catch his breath. The sudden unfamiliar flare of panic pushed aside his pain temporarily. He had to run, _now_!

"There, there he is, after him!"

"How on earth is he still running?"

"Forget that, how is he still alive?"

"I don't care, that makes him easier to catch!"

Altair ran as he had never run before, pushing people out of his way, rather than dodge around them due to his bad leg. He couldn't do any of the sharp turns, spins, or leaps like he normally would to get rid of pursuers, so he just had to hope that he could just stay far enough ahead of them to get to the gates, where Zauba'a was waiting.

He ran for what seemed an eternity, but still he couldn't see the gate, making him a little more nervous. Just as he was starting to wonder if he was going the wrong way, he recognized the surrounding buildings. He was almost there. He could finally see the gates from here…and the thick line of soldiers waiting for him. However, Altair had one last trick to play. He had discovered years ago the less crowded way of getting through the gates.

With the very last ounces of strength left in him, he leaped onto a pile of crates then from there leaped over the astonished guards heads and onto the wooden planks that were perfectly spaced overhead.

"Zauba'a!" he screamed, praying the grey stallion was nearby, and leaped off the last plank, landing heavily. Pain shot up his leg, nearly making him scream out loud. He couldn't catch his breath; his ribs didn't want to move to allow air to fill his lungs. He felt light-headed and dizzy all of the sudden.

"He's down!"

"Careful he could be faking it!"

"That one is deadly, he killed three of my buddies several weeks ago."

He heard the careful footsteps, heard them start to circle him. So this is it, he thought, this is what it is like for a gazelle to be caught by lions. A loud roaring filled his ears, his vision was starting to whiteout. He had pushed himself too far. He was finished. Suddenly he heard shouts over the roar. Shouts? Why were they shouting? Then his foggy mind came up with the most absurd answer; the roar he heard was actually a whirlwind.

XxXxXx

A/N: Before anyone asks, yes, is on purpose that I sometimes do not put the locations along with the date whenever I do a shift. That mostly is because they are either traveling or are not in a location I have disclosed or do not wish to disclose due wanting to give the reader a surprise. Just a little heads-up in case you were wondering.

Zauba'a, in case anyone is interested, is an evil spirit in Islamic folklore that appears in the form of a whirlwind. Yeah, I know, I'm slightly crazy, looking up demons and such, but what can I say? I'm a fantasy nut.

Review, please, I beg, I LOVE reviews. They keep me motivated along with orange soda and my newly formed love for electricity.

-Vanillathunder215


	4. The Return Home

Hama, Syria 2012

Lucy found a set of stairs tucked away in a corner, nearly hidden completely by a half crumbled wall. They made their way down cautiously for the light was getting bad. In fact, it was pitch black at the bottom, so dark they couldn't see their hands in front of their faces, but they kept going down what appeared to be a hallway, keeping a hand on the rough walls for guidance. Lucy, feeling a little disoriented, grabbed Desmond's hand, smiling a little when he gave it a little squeeze of reassurance.

Suddenly something grabbed her. At first she thought it was Desmond teasing her in the dark, but then she heard him grunt and his hand was yanked out of hers.

"Who might you be?" a deep voice whispered in her ear, something sharp and cold tickling her neck, "Friend or foe?"

"Safety and Peace to you, brother." Lucy answered, recognizing the request, as well as the voice, "Safety and Peace. Now, let me go, Gerson."

"You came in rather late, Lucy." The voice whispered, the blade moving away from her neck, "Your friend is a little jumpy, aint he?"

"Oh no!" Lucy whispered in dread, "Let him go, hurry! Don't…oh no, Desmond, stop! Don't hurt them, they are _not_ Templars!"

It was too late. Desmond had heard Lucy's startled intake of breath an instant before two rough pairs of hands grabbed him, pulling him away from her. Before he could call out to her, a hand was clamped over his mouth. He struggled against it, but whoever had him was much stronger. It never crossed his mind that they might be assassin allies; to him, allies don't accost each other like this. Suddenly he kicked out low, connecting with something that gave with a pained grunt. He yanked his right arm free of the now loosened grip and turned his attention to the other person. The other was, as Lucy already found out, a well-trained assassin, but he wasn't expecting Desmond to react the way he did. He suddenly found himself doubled over, completely winded, after being rammed in the gut by Desmond's elbow and knew that a blow to the head was going to follow, knew also that it would be very painful at best and deadly at worst. But it didn't come.

Luckily for him, Desmond heard Lucy's pleas for him to stop and, slowly, his mind returned, pushing back that of the high-strung and deadly assassin. In the utter darkness, the man couldn't see what happened next, but he heard a sharp thud and a low groan, followed by another, heavier one.

"Couldn't you have found another way other than knocking him out?" he heard Lucy ask, "I'd rather not have him suffer anymore brain damage."

XxXxXx

Acre 1191

When a horse has become attached to a person, they generally view them as part of their 'herd'. Testosterone charged stallions, like Zauba'a, tend to get very protective of their herd, willingly attacking any threat to it. So, it goes without saying that, when the big grey stallion saw his 'herd mate' go down and was slowly being surrounded by soldiers, he felt the natural instinct of a herd stallion to protect his herd.

With a shriek that sent the birds flying away in terror, the big horse charged down into the middle of them, living up to his name, like a demonic whirlwind. Soldiers cried out in panic and pain as they were either trampled or kicked. Pretty soon, none of them wanted anything to do with the big grey as he stood protectively over Altair.

The assassin, on the other hand, was just starting to make sense of what was going on. He was dangerously close to passing out, but the sudden presence of Zauba'a, coupled with the sharp comforting smell of leather and horse, pulled him back to consciousness enough to reach up and grab the saddle, somehow pulling himself up onto the horse's back. He picked the reins up purely on the reason so they wouldn't flap around and confuse Zauba'a and twisted his fingers into the thick dark mane.

"Home." He choked out, "Go, Zauba'a, go home."

The horse snorted, understanding the command "home". He gave another shrieking whinny before spinning and taking off at a dead run, scattering people and soldiers along the way. He needed no guidance from Altair for they had gone back and forth from Acre enough to where he knew how to get home, but the poor horse was very confused as to why Altair didn't comfort him or encourage him to a faster pace. He always did _something_ while on his back and the sudden absence of that only served to scare him.

He ran the whole way home, slowing only when exhaustion settled in, but resuming his fast pace when he could. Somehow or another, Altair managed to stay mounted, though he was slumped in the saddle without either of his feet in the stirrups. A small part of his mind registered that, every time he started to slip off, Zauba'a moved a little to stay under him.

Needless to say, both horse and rider were utterly exhausted by the time they reached Masyaf. Altair had come to enough to slow Zauba'a to a walk for a while but was out by the time the city gates came into view. Suddenly feeling the over-whelming urge to run, despite his exhaustion, the horse broke into a gallop and flew through the gates, startling the guards. Fortunately it was night so the streets were virtually empty as the horse pounded up the twisting roads to the fortress.

Two guards on duty up on the walls noticed them and watched in mild interest as they approached, recognizing both of them.

"Altair seems to be in a hurry." One of them, Djmal, commented.

"I don't know, something seems a little off." Karim noted. Karim was several years older than Djmal and was well known throughout the fortress as being a rock of good sense. "Zauba'a seems to be running a little wild."

"So?"

"Altair loves that horse, he wouldn't run him ragged right up to the fortress, no matter how important the news he carries is." Karim explained patiently, "And further more, the reins are really loose, like Altair's not even holding onto them."

"You scare me sometimes." Djmal said, curiosity getting the better of him as he took a closer look. "You're too observant. I'll be with my woman and continuously looking over my shoulder for you."

"Good, it'll keep your lazy ass more alert."

Before Djmal could come up with a retort Zauba'a slid to a stop right below them, snorting and dripping with sweat.

"Demons chasing you, Altair?" Djmal asked casually.

Instead of any usual sarcastic replies, Altair graced them by finally falling off Zauba'a, causing the horse to whinny loudly again and rear up.

"Told you something was wrong!" Karim shot before dashing down from the wall, calling out orders as he ran, causing an uproar.

Djmal looked down at Altair's still form again, feeling slightly worried but not for Altair. The man was tough as nails, nothing could keep him down for very long and he would soon be back in action, but Djmal was worried for everyone else. He had never believed that anything could actually injure the master assassin, let alone catch him. If something, or someone, had injured him that badly, what would that mean for the rest of them?

XxXxXx

Assassin stronghold, Hama, Syria 2012

The first thing Desmond was aware of was a splitting headache. That and he was sitting on something cold and hard. His eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly, only to instantly regret it as the bright lights stung his eyes and his head was sent reeling.

"Whoa, easy there tiger." A soothing voice said, "Let that hard head of yours recover a bit. That was a nasty blow you took."

Desmond slitted one eye open and saw a tall woman with long dark brown hair bound in a braid sitting across the table form him, big blue eyes watching him.

"Who…where am I?" Desmond stuttered, his aching head unwilling to cooperate.

"The last assassin stronghold." The woman said, "A bureau, if that helps you out any."

"Ah." Desmond said, all the events of last night coming back to him, "How long have I been out?"

"Just an hour or so." The woman said, smiling gently, "Gerson hits hard when he feels he needs to. You shook them up pretty badly."

"Not nearly as much as they did me." Desmond said sourly, "Who are you anyway?"

"Oh, dear me, I'm so sorry, I forgot!" her blue eyes widened, "My name is Sura. Oh, and don't worry, this isn't an interrogation room. We only put you here so that in case you were still…um…_pugnacious_, shall we say, no one would get hurt."

"Yeah, about that." Desmond winced, "Sorry, but your guys scared the shit outta me. I thought we had been caught by Templars."

"Well considering our front door doesn't work so well and given the fact that what you see here is all that is left of the assassins, we _are_ kinda paranoid." Sura said wryly, "Lucy had already given the correct password but you reacted before anyone else could."

"So Lucy is alright then I take it."

"She's perfectly alright. A little worried about you, but alright." Sura stood suddenly, "Well, you seem much better now and in a more stable mind set. Come on, I'll give you the grand tour of our little shelter."

The compound, as it turned out, was situated underground, accessible only by a hidden trap door in the hallway Lucy and Desmond had been in earlier. It wasn't very big but it didn't really need to be considering it held only 50 people, less than half of them fully trained assassins, the other half were trainees or allies that chose to go into hiding with them. Still, it was rather cozy, as much as a hole in the ground could be, and it was very well equipped. In fact, it reminded Desmond a lot of the fortress in Masyaf during Altair's time.

About halfway through the "tour" they ran into Lucy who, taking Desmond completely by surprise, gave him a big hug. Behind her was Gerson, who was a lot bigger than Desmond had expected, standing several inches over Desmond's 6 ft. frame and quite a few pounds heavier, but the lump on his head insisted otherwise. Gerson was not the type to hold grudges, fortunately, and was friendly enough as he shook hands with Desmond, showing sincere admiration for the way he had quickly taken out 2 well-trained assassins. Desmond simply nodded, prudently withholding his comment on how it was Altair, not him, who had done it.

"Admit it Gerson." Sura teased the larger man, "You're jealous. You haven't been beaten in a hand-to-hand combat in years and then this skinny kid shows up and knocks two of your men around like rag dolls. Admit it, little brother; he just might get you next!"

Gerson laughed, "I'm not putting anything past you, kid." He told Desmond, "but I seriously doubt you can beat me."

Desmond just nodded forcing a smile on his face, but in truth, his mind was reeling. Sura's teasing words had rang so painfully familiar in his mind. Where? Where had he heard that before?

"Desmond? You ok?" he heard Lucy ask.

"Did she, did Sura just say 'little brother'?" he asked Lucy.

"Yeah, she…oh, I see now." Lucy smiled and turned to Sura, who was watching them curiously. "Sura, remember I told about the Animus?"

Sura nodded, "the machine that reads your ancestor's memories? Yeah, I remember. Sounds pretty cool, though in Templar hands in scares me."

"Well, Desmond was in it for some time and you two have an interwoven past. Sura, tell him who your ancestor was; the assassin back during the crusade."

"Before the Mongols came?" Sura asked, "Of course. My family took great pride in it and kept passing down the story throughout the generations. My ancestor was the only female assassin at the time. Her name was-"

"Badoura." Desmond finished for her, causing her to raise her eyebrows, "Your ancestor was Badoura."

XxXxXx

1191 Masyaf

"This would be the, what, eighth time?" Malik asked in amusement, leaning against the wall in Badoura's rooms, "Eight times. It has got to be a new record."

"No, he has a ways to go from what I heard." Badoura said, "Altair apparently was nothing compared to some assassin, I forget his name, about forty years ago. He was able to set the whole fortress into utter chaos a grand total of fifteen times in his career. Besides, I'm not counting this one. Altair wasn't exactly trying to set everyone off. It was just his grand entrance, complete with an overprotective, belligerent stallion, that did it."

Altair, for his part, was still out cold, though this time it was due to Badoura having drugged him. He wasn't aware of how perfectly had he had upset the entire fortress, and apparently half of Masyaf as well, by simply falling off his horse.

"Alright, now that I don't have to listen to his whining, let's see if this was all worth it." Badoura deftly stripped off Altair's clothing, revealing his well-muscled torso. "Ok, maybe all that fuss was a little justified."

Malik let out a low hiss when he saw his friend's chest; several ribs stuck out in odd angles while a spectacular bruise ran parallel along his diaphragm. The broken ribs seemed to be moving in the wrong direction with every breath Altair took, making a sickening crunchy noise when Badoura gently prodded them.

"These will definitely keep him still for a few weeks." She mumbled, "But for the life of me I can't tell what caused this. It's like he got hit with something, but the area is too narrow, too straight. Ugh, trust Altair to get bizarre injuries."

Suddenly, she stopped and put her hand on Altair's forehead, frowning, "What on earth…why is he feverish?"

"Feverish? Since when do a couple of broken bones cause a fever?" Malik asked, "I'm no healer but I've never heard of that."

"That's because they don't." Badoura sighed, her eyes running over Altair's body, "But open wounds do. Come here, I'm going to need your help pulling his boot off."

"Before I do, tell me, what makes you think I want to help pull that nasty thing off?" Malik asked.

"Oh for the love of God, you're the one who started the whole shoe throwing war years ago, little brother!" Badoura exclaimed, "And _you_ have absolutely no right to talk about smelly boots! That one time you left _your_ boots in _my_ room? It took days for the stench to air out, even with incense. No, get over here. I need you to pull his boot off while I make sure it doesn't pull the arrow stuck in his leg and make a possibly bad wound worse."

"Now that…that would cause a fever." Malik said, after he tossed Altair's boot off.

The arrow had gone completely through his leg, managing to miss all the important veins and tendons but leaving his leg open to infection. Considering Altair hadn't been able to pay any attention to the wound, let alone even take the arrow out, it had become infected rather quickly, resulting in the fever he currently had. The wound itself was rather ugly; red and swollen, with pus oozing out of it and, rather worrisome, blue streaks leading from the site.

"Pretty colors. And with accessories as well." Badoura said dryly, prodding the arrowhead where it poked out of Altair's calf muscle, "Fortunately this isn't really as bad as it looks. Get that arrow out, clear it out, clean it up, let it heal and he'll be none the worse for wear save a scar to add to his already impressive collection. Hold his leg still for me, please, while I pull this out."

"And those streaks?"

"Just the wound bitching that it's infected. If they had been _red_ streaks and snaking down half his leg then we would have a serious problem. But by then, the wound would be stinking worse than your boots and turning green." Badoura said, easily sliding the arrow out and starting to clean the wound, "If anything could smell worse than your boots, that is."

"Leave my boots out of this."

"And out of my room as well."

"Enough. I'm changing the subject now." Malik said, glaring, "For how long have you knocked him out?"

"Just for an hour or so. But given his ability to sleep like a damn rock when he wants to, that can easily be stretched to several hours." Badoura said wryly, "Better he stay asleep however. There's nothing worse than a sick or injured man. They can whine like no other and Altair is at the top of that class."

"Good. I have something I need to discuss with you." Malik said, his voice turning deadly serious, "Something that is going to affect us all."

XxXxXx

2012 Hama, Syria

"Desmond?"

Desmond spun around when he heard his name, a voice he hadn't heard in nine years.

"Mom."

Gerson, Sura and Lucy discreetly disappeared, allowing them some privacy.

Really he was startled to see her. She had aged in the nine years he had been away. Several strands of grey hair now marred her dark hair and her face was pale with small wrinkles appearing around her dark eyes and mouth. Still her beauty remained and the hopeful smile she put on only enhanced that. Suddenly, tears streamed from her eyes.

"Oh thank God!" she cried, throwing her arms around him, "I was so worried about you!"

For a split second Desmond was too stunned to do anything but then he hesitantly returned the hug, not denying the rush of affection that went through him, but still rather uncomfortable. After all, what do you say or do after nine years?

"I…I'm sorry." He said sheepishly, not really sure what to say.

"I am too." His mother said, taking him back on his heels, "Everyday you were gone I blamed myself, thinking that, had we not kept you in the dark, you would have never left."

"But you found out first hand what that was, didn't you?"

Desmond winced slightly as he slowly turned to face his father. It was slightly ridiculous; he had been bold enough to run away, live on his own for nine years without a problem, get kidnapped by Templars, forced to relive his ancestors memories (though he had no complaint against that), basically been shown how the world was going to end, been told he was going to be killed, performed a mad escape by hitch hiking on a cargo plane and running away to Syria, all the while making cynical and sarcastic remarks and just generally being a pain in the ass as much as possible. But he could barely stand facing his father.

"Seems to run in the family then." His father said, taking poor Desmond back even more on his heels, "Being as stubborn as an ass. I take it you learned something from this?"

"Yeah." Desmond said slowly, unable to resist just one stab at humor, "Just how far back that stubbornness runs."

His father, a tall solid man who also had dark hair starting to grey but lighter eyes, just shook his head. "That Animus thing, huh?"

"Despite the fact that it was in the hands of a bunch of Templars and being used to find the keys to taking over the world, that was the coolest thing I have ever done." Desmond said in all honesty, "Although getting off the thing after a full day on it was rather painful."

"Tell us about it."

Desmond launched into his tale, embellishing it a little…ok, embellishing it a lot, but realizing, in the back of his mind, that asking about it was his father's way of both apologizing and forgiving him. And by telling, Desmond was accepting it. For some reason, that meant a lot to him when it hadn't in the past. But, for some reason Desmond couldn't really explain, he refrained from mentioning names, especially Altair's. Now just wasn't the right time to admit that his, and consequently his father's, ancestor was the greatest assassin during the twelfth century, not to mention slightly to blame for the mess they were in now by not destroying the stupid Piece of Eden. He also didn't mention the Bleed Effect. He didn't want to worry his mother after only seeing her for ten minutes but also because that would include needing to tell about Altair.

"So they still can't find that damn Piece of Eden, huh?" his father said rhetorically, "They can't hold onto the things. They get one then destroy it through strokes of brilliant stupidity. Good thing Lucy managed to scramble that memory then. The Templars might actually get smart and keep one or two intact."

"Yeah, but we don't know where they are either so its back to square one." Desmond pointed out, "Don't we want to find them before they do?"

"We do, but there are not many of us left." His mother put in, "All you see here is all we have. If Abstergo is as big as you say it is then they have an advantage over us."

"Maybe. I think…I think I have an idea." Desmond said, his eyes widening, "Quick, get Sura, Lucy and Gerson! I have a _really_ good idea!"

"Desmond, you do realize that the library was destroyed when the Mongols invaded right?" Lucy asked, after hearing Desmond's idea, "Most of the records were destroyed. People have already searched the fortress over hundreds of times. If there was anything to be found, it's gone already."

"Oh come on, Lucy." Desmond said, dropping his head in his hands, "You were watching those memories as well! Think! Remember, there was another area where they kept records…he woke up there after the master-"

"OH!" Lucy stood up as she remembered, "Oh my God…I can't believe I forgot that."

Sura and Gerson glanced wide-eyed from Desmond to Lucy and back again, totally lost.

"The main library might have been destroyed…but that wasn't the only place they kept records." Desmond explained excitedly, "I know of another spot, one a bit more secluded than the library. There's a chance that something might have survived there."

"So I take it we're going on a field trip to Masyaf?" Gerson asked, "To go look for a secluded room in the ruins of a fortress that might contain records of something, you have yet to tell us what, and hope that the Templars haven't figured this out earlier or we'll get the whole Templar welcome committee. In other words; potentially fruitless, dangerous, exciting, suicidal and did I mention dangerous? Great! What time are we heading out?"

The sad thing was, he actually sounded genuinely eager.

XxXxXx

A/N: Nice long chappy for everyone. I have to go back to school on Mon. and, after a week off, I'm nervous about the make-up load. Don't know if I'm going to have time to type this up after Mon. but I'll try my best (and work like crazy over the weekend). Who knows, maybe my history teacher (who, I swear, is old enough to probably have witnessed the crusades, all of them, and have dated the hashishan assassin master) will not notice me typing up stories in the back of the classroom. Lol, she doesn't notice much else, let alone the attention level of her class (which, that is, asleep and snoring)….

...You know, that _would_ be kinda cool if she had dated an assassin…not Altair because that would be creepy and totally burst my fantasy bubble and all surrounding daydreams that accompany it. Yikes, early morning ramblings.

Safety and Peace, my friends. REVIEW!! (it keeps me happy and keeps my plot bunny from biting me, damn little fur ball. I don't think hurricanes sit well with her.)

-Vanillathunder215


	5. Bad Blood

A/N- I just now noticed that past uploaded documents are leaving out my page breaks so, in order to make sure no one gets confused, I'm using the "XxXxXx" as time breaks between Desmond's time and Altair's while I'll use "aaaaaaa" as a break within the section. Sorry for any past confusion.

XxXxXx

1191 Assassin fortress, Masyaf, Syria

"Are you talking about the gathering?" Badoura asked, "The selection of a new master? I didn't think they would be done for another week or so."

"Yes, well, something has come up, something that is making me nervous." Malik said, frowning, "I think I'm getting a whiff of a conspiracy."

"Dear God!" Badoura stood suddenly, agitated, "As if we haven't had enough of that lately!"

"True, but this time I don't think it has anything to do with the Piece of Eden."

"No? Where is it anyway?" Badoura asked, "No, never mind. I don't want to know."

"I couldn't tell you anyway. Altair has it." Malik motioned to the unconscious assassin, "Forget that. A new master has been elected. One that none of the more respected bureau leaders remember voting on. In fact, I'll bet you haven't even heard of this man."

"Oh?" Badoura asked, "Your tone suggests that this one has personality that would make even Sayid seem pleasant."

"Unfortunately." Malik said sourly, "His name is Kamal. He normally operates out of the Alamut branch in Iraq, the main fortress of the assassin brotherhood. Normally they are too far away to really influence us, thank God, but the news of Al Mualim's betrayal reached their ears. Kamal is not very high up in rank, not even a passable fighter if what I've heard is correct, but he's good at getting what he wants."

"This doesn't sound too bad." Badoura accused, "It may not be overly desirable but you made it sound like it was the end of the world."

"Badoura, Altair and I have met him before. He's an ass, and that's being nice." Malik said blandly, "And he and Altair didn't exactly get along. In fact, if I remember correctly, it took ten of us to separate them after Kamal took a jab at Altair. Don't remember what it was exactly, there are so many things that can set Altair off, but he went off in a rage. I've never seen him so angry before. Anyway, when we finally go them apart you could see the sparks flying from them. They've hated each other ever since and I don't think either one has forgotten their last meeting."

"Where was I during this?"

"I think you were in Acre getting information on that shady camel merchant. The one who was smuggling children as slaves in the baskets the camels carried."

"Oh yes, that one." Badoura said absently, "Wait…so now that he's our master do you think he's going to…" Before Badoura could finish her sentence she was interrupted by someone knocking on her door.

As she started to get up, Ghaddar rose suddenly from her bed, growling like any good guard dog, claws sliding out. Badoura had raised the lioness from a kitten and trusted her completely. If the cat ever indicated something was wrong, it usually was. She glanced back and forth between the door and her snarling pet a few times before her gaze settled on her little brothers. Malik, for his part, frowned a little. Something in him was screaming to not open the door.

Finally, Badoura looked at Altair, still deeply unconscious. _Ten of us to separate them…never seen him so angry before…hated each other ever since…don't think either has forgotten… _

Ghaddar snarled again, much louder this time, and stalked over to the door. There was a slight shuffle, then near non-existent footsteps as whoever it was finally left.

"Malik?" the bureau leader looked at her, "If this is as bad as you say. I want some of your men. Preferably the ones who are really good with throwing knives."

XxXxXx

2012 Masyaf, Syria

In the pre-dawn light the fortress loomed surreally over them, looking almost as impressive as it had been nearly 900 years ago despite the ruins it was in now. It was a solemn moment for the assassins, standing there in the shadows of the past. Back then they had been great, in numbers, influence and power, but now they were almost nothing, barely struggling for survival.

"Well, best get going then." Sura said, breaking the silence, "Where do we start looking Desmond?"

"Well, when Altair was demoted, he was put in an underground room, one that was rather hidden. It was the room where they usually perform the assassin initiation ceremony, the one where they cut off their ring finger." Desmond said, never taking his eyes off the fortress, "I can't really explain where it is…I'll have to show you."

Desmond started off up the path, Gerson, Lucy and Sura in tow, towards the fortress. A sudden longing, not unlike homesickness, filled him. Time had been cruel to the fortress, time and people. Both had chiseled away at the once intimidating walls, taking it down piece by piece. Once it had seemed indestructible; now it seemed to be waiting to crumble into dust, to be forgotten forever. It was sad, really, to even think of it.

Suddenly, Gerson grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him and the girls backwards, sending them sprawling behind a large boulder.

"Hey, what gives?!"

Gerson clamped a hand over Desmond's mouth and pointed up towards the entrance to the fortress. All four carefully edged around the side of the rock and looked up.

There were trucks and tents and people crawling all over the place, all bearing a very familiar logo. Apparently Abstergo had had a similar idea to Desmond's.

"What the hell?" Desmond whispered, "Lucy, there's no way they could have tracked us, right? I mean…the only reason they have to be here…"

"Is the same reason we have." Lucy finished for, "But I don't know what they are looking for. As I have said about a hundred times before, the library was destroyed when the Mongols invaded. Almost all the records were destroyed, virtually erasing all knowledge of the assassins who lived here. They know that, but there's no way they'd really know about this room you are talking about. In fact I don't really remember this memory quite as well as you though I know what you are talking about…"

"So what in nine hells are they looking for?" Gerson demanded impatiently, "If there's nothing there…"

"You are an assassin are you not?" Sura interrupted.

"Hmm, lemme think on that." Gerson replied sarcastically, "No fucking shit."

"So does that mean your're going to sit here on your ass bitching about it or are you going to act like an actual assassin and gather information?" Sura asked, "Go on, off with you. You have some spare flash drives if I know you, so hack into their computers. Go, shoo."

Grumbling to himself, Gerson started off, slinking around boulders and scrub with far more dexterity and stealth than one would think for someone his size.

"Desmond, go with him." Lucy whispered suddenly, "He might need your help. Plus I want you to make sure that no one is killed. No need to alert them to our presence just yet."

Desmond nodded and slunk off after Gerson, with a heck of a lot more stealth than anyone, himself included, would have ever thought. Maybe the Bleed Effect had its upsides…

The girls watched as the two assassins disappeared and sighed; so much for an easy field trip.

XxXxXx

1191 Masyaf, Syria

"You are one lucky bastard, you know that?"

Badoura's words echoed in Altair's head. True, he was rather lucky but he sure didn't _feel_ lucky right about now. In fact, he felt downright miserable as he fought to suck in an agonizing breath as he coughed. Well, the word "coughing" wouldn't have done the fit he was in justice; he felt like he was trying to hack up both lungs, his stomach and maybe even a kidney or two.

When the fit finally ended, he fell back, dizzy, throbbing and breathless. And slightly irritated. Even though he felt horrible, he did not like being bedridden. It made him feel helpless, which led to him being infuriated, which, in turn, led into him being rather irritable and difficult to deal with.

And it had only been a few hours since he had woken up. A few hours since he told Malik and Badoura exactly what happened in Acre. Like him, they were very interested that the woman who had set him up knew so much about him. That and the conformation that Conrad was up to something.

However, the down side was that Malik was never going to let him live down the fact that he had flubbed a leap of faith for the first time since his novice years, despite the fact that he had been struck and knocked off balance by an arrow.

While he hadn't said anything, yet, Altair knew it was coming. His friend had that look in his eyes as Altair told them what had happened. The assassin strongly suspected that Badoura had had something to do with Malik's silence and, for the first time, was truly happy that she had a rather over-protective streak. If it kept Malik's mouth shut, at least until he was strong enough to counter the inevitable teasing, then he wouldn't complain too much about it. In fact, he vowed, he would even behave himself while recovering as way of thanks. God only knew just how difficult he could be when he was bored and restless.

However, it was over-kill to have Malik's men baby-sit him while Badoura was out and about. I'm not _that_ bad, he thought as he eyed them warily, I take back what I said. She's getting hell for this.

Aaaaaaa

While Altair was fuming over being left with Malik's boys, Badoura was out taking a walk around the courtyard, trying to clear her troubled mind. She had taken Ghaddar with her as much for companionship as well as safety, enabling her to leave Malik's men to watch Altair. She smiled a little as she remembered the insulted look Altair had given her when she left. Since his tongue was as sharp as hers she took her hits when she could get them.

She hadn't told him about the new master yet. Given the history of bad blood between him and Kamal, coupled with the fact that he needed his energy to be focused on healing, Badoura thought it prudent to keep him in the dark until he healed up sufficiently. Let him think that the presence of Malik's men was just to tease him.

But while she could put her mind at ease about Altair, what Malik had told her disturbed her greatly. She was worried about the brotherhood, still recovering from Al Mualim's betrayal. Could they truly survive with yet another master they did not trust? But, on the other hand, truth be told, she was also worried about herself.

Her position in the brotherhood, as a female in a male dominated cult, was tentative at best. Despite her strength and skill, she was at the mercy of the master, who could force her into the garden or the streets or even just as easily have her killed. While Altair and Malik afforded her much protection, if the new master, Kamal, hated Altair as much as Malik said he did, then Altair's influence was now null. Malik himself was in hot water just for being friends with Altair and Badoura didn't want to jeopardize his position for she felt they might need that influence further down the road.

However, she didn't think she needed to worry just yet. If Kamal was smart, he would wait until everything settled down and until he had everyone's trust before trying to do anything to her, if he even felt like he had to do anything about her at all. For, even without Altair and Malik behind her, Badoura was well liked and respected among the assassins. Kamal would have a hard time getting through them. At least, she hoped he would.

Ghaddar growled suddenly, jerking Badoura out of her musings. Three men she didn't know were walking towards her, two of them, with their hands on the hilts of their swords, were flanking the third. Though she had never seen the man before, she knew instantly that he had to be Kamal.

"Ah, Badoura, am I right?" He asked, "So nice to finally meet you."

"As it is you." Badoura said, a little stiffly perhaps, but polite none-the-less.

"Yes, well, it is not everyday that one meets a female assassin." Kamal said. Did she hear contempt in his voice or was that some trick her mind was playing on her?

"I am not an assassin." Badoura said, "I merely keep my ears open and tell the assassins what I have learned. I am a woman, after all, and I hear gossip better than anyone."

Kamal looked as if he comment on that but Ghaddar growled again, louder this time, making Kamal think better otherwise.

"I see." He said, one eye on the white lioness, "Tell me, have you seen Altair Ibn La-Ahad around? If I remember correctly you are fairly close to him, so you would know where he is, yes?"

"Why ask me? I don't know the comings and goings of the assassins. Their affairs remain their own." Badoura said, playing the part of an ignorant woman, "Ask the other brothers. They might know where he is, though, I will admit, Altair keeps much to himself."

"Alas, no one seems to know where he is." Kamal said, giving an over-dramatic sigh, "Oh well, he is probably off creating more trouble for the brotherhood. I will have to do something to rein him in I suppose."

Badoura immediately sensed the trap he was trying to goad her into. He wanted to see just how close she was to Altair, she realized, trying to squeeze information out of someone he considered easy prey. Poor fool had no idea who he was dealing with.

"Oh praise be to God! Finally someone is willing to step forward to do something about him!" Badoura said, "He's utterly incorrigible, that one."

"I wouldn't worry about that for much longer." Kamal said, seemingly pleased, "By the way, there was a disturbance by the gate late last night. Since you seem to be up to date on all the latest gossip, can you tell me what that was? I can't seem to get a straight answer from anyone."

"One of the horses got loose and scared himself silly, like a horse will do when he finds himself separated from a herd. You know how some horses are." Badoura said, smiling inwardly, "One of the novices got too close and it kicked him. They caught the horse; I stitched the novice up and sent him on his way. The only reason it caused such uproar was because the guards were bored after hours of nothing happening. Such an occurrence was a good break from the monotony."

"Ah, I see then." Kamal said, sounding rather disappointed, "Well, as pleasant as it if talking to you, I really must be going. We must talk again soon. Oh, and if you see Altair, be a good girl and let me know?"

Badoura smiled and nodded like it pleased her to serve the master but as soon as he was out of earshot her smile turned to a snarl.

"Arrogant bastard." She growled, "You think you can trick me into being your personal informer like some stupid whore, you have another thing coming."

She stopped her ranting and glanced up suddenly, realizing that the guards up on the walls had been listening. They all pointedly looked away, smiling in amusement, with a look that Badoura recognized as saying they hadn't heard a thing, nor would they say anything to anyone. It had been an amusing interlude, that was all.

Badoura reached down and ruffled Ghaddar's ears, smiling. So, the brotherhood still stood behind her and Altair. After meeting with Kamal, she wasn't surprised; the man was an ass and that was putting it nicely, as Malik had said. He actually made Altair look extroverted! Well, that maybe going a little too far, Badoura amended, but all of Altair's shortcomings will be forgiven rather quickly in the face of this idiot.

Then she made a face, "Damn!" she muttered, "How in the nine hells am I supposed to convince him to stay hidden until he's _fully_ recovered?"

XxXxXx

2012 Masyaf, Syria

"Look for a tent with as many computers as possible, the more the better." Gerson whispered.

"How come? Don't you want hard copies?" Desmond asked.

"And alert them that a thief is in the area?" Gerson asked, "Heck no. This isn't the twelfth century, you know. We do have other pieces of these things called technology that makes things much easier and less obvious that we've been here."

"Knock it off." Desmond growled, "Last I checked, flash drives went out of fashion 10 years ago."

Gerson rolled his eyes, "That would be Sura, not me, who's out of touch." He said, "I haven't used a flash drive since I graduated from high school. No, I use this little princess. All I do is plug her in and their hard drive is my play ground."

He pulled out what looked like a small MP3 player about the size of his palm. Instead of a screen it had several adjusters and a USB plug stuck out from the top of it.

"We're all something else, you know." Gerson said, tucking his 'princess' back into his pocket, "Lucy's a science nut, you're a bartender, Sura's strategist and me…well, let's just say I'm a hacker. Come on, let's find us a computer."

It didn't really take that long to find a laptop just sitting unsupervised on a table under a canopy. It was so tempting, like a carrot dangling in front of a horse, but it seemed too easy. There was no way that they could just simply walk in, scoop up the laptop, and walk away…it was just too easy.

"How long does it take your toy to download the computer's information?" Desmond asked.

"Depends on how much memory it takes up but on average about…oh, say, thirty seconds." Desmond stared, "Hey, I told you the more computers the better. I can download about five computers worth of information on this baby."

Desmond turned around to survey the area around them. "Five computers? Ok, stay here. Don't move."

Gerson moved to stop him but Desmond was already gone, moving so quickly and quietly that even Gerson, as well trained as he was, couldn't keep track of him as he slipped around tents, through shadows, even under cars, all the while ducking in and out of various tents and canopies. Less than a minute later he returned, carefully placing five laptops on the ground in front of his friend.

"Hurry, I want to put these back before anyone notices." Desmond whispered.

"Sure." Gerson said, a little slack-jawed, "And here I thought Kitty was a damn good thief. She just got out-classed."

Desmond ignored him as he went about stealing the computers information, eyes busy watching for any unwanted visitors. He felt edgy and impatient. It would have been so much easier to simply steal hard copies…at least he wouldn't have had to put them back.

"Got it." Gerson said, "Which one went…never mind."

Desmond had already taken off.

Aaaaaaa

"Did you get anything yet?"

"I'm working on it, dammit." Gerson snapped, waving the girls away, "I got five freaking computers I have to shift through. When I find something I'll let you know, now go the hell away."

"Aren't you Mr. Sunshine right now?" Sura teased.

To his credit, Gerson kept his cool. He didn't yell or chase her out. He simply stood up, easily scooped up Sura over his shoulder and dropped her outside his room before giving Lucy a pointed look. She got the hint and quickly scurried out after Sura, the door slamming shut behind her.

"Oh I love doing that to him." Sura said, grinning impishly, "Gives him something to look forward to everyday."

"You're more like Badoura than you'll ever know." Desmond said, leaning casually against the wall, watching the whole thing with great amusement, "Except Gerson gets the full brunt of you with no one else to share the misery with."

"Be careful how you say that." Sura said, her eyes twinkling, "I might decide to make you his partner in desolation."

"No, thank you." Desmond said, making a wry face, "I got enough on my mind without you messing with it even more."

"Tell me something." Sura said, leading them into a living room of sorts and plopping down on the couch, "What was she really like? I mean, I know what my family has told me, but things tend to get muddled when passed from word of mouth over 900 years."

"Badoura? Not much to tell that you don't show yourself." Desmond said honestly, "Strong, smart, beautiful, with a tongue and nerves of steel. Though she had a motherly streak in her. She tended to fret over the assassins like a mother hen over her chicks."

"Is that all?"

"No. You look like her, except that her eyes were light brown and you're not as tan as she was…and you're a little taller than she was." Desmond said, "I haven't really known you long so I can't really compare the rest to you but Badoura was good, and I mean really good, at getting information. Not sure how she did it, but she always got reliable information and quickly. Not only that but she was a good pickpocket as well. She had been secretly taught how to be an assassin so she also knew how to carry and use a blade…and how to kill. She was an assassin, there's no other way to put it, and damn good one."

"Good." Sura said, looking pleased, "You don't know how good that made me feel, knowing that the stories were true. Now let me ask you one last thing; was your ancestor Altair Ibn La-Ahad? You certainly don't strike me as a descendant of Malik Al-Sayir."

"Yeah, but how did you…?" Desmond asked, a little dumb founded.

"I told you; my family takes pride in its assassin background." Sura said, "Stories were told of how two assassins that Badoura was close to, Malik and Altair, taught her the assassin trade, like you just said. Only those two would really now about that, so I guessed that Altair was your ancestor. Besides, your painful arrival made that abundantly clear."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing really." Sura shrugged, "Altair was more belligerent than Malik was, that you know already, but also because I know you're not related to Gerson."

"Excuse me?"

"You and Gerson are not related." Sura sighed, "You men are so dense sometimes. Desmond, you were subject seventeen. If you failed to yield anything, Gerson was set to be subject eighteen. They knew his name, but that was just about it. Lucy managed to destroy that as well."

"What do you mean; we're not related?"

"Still on that? Fine, I'll spell it out for you; I am Badoura's descendant, you are Altair's and Gerson is Malik's."

Desmond's jaw dropped.

"Yup, so don't be surprised if Gerson starts asking the same questions I was. He's just about dying with curiosity but he's letting you settle in a bit…I'm not as patient as he is." Sura said, smiling.

"Hey, I got something here!" Gerson called out, making them all jump, "Oh damn…you really need to see this. This is bad, _really_ bad."

XxXxXx

A/N; Finally, now the fun can begin! Intrigue, sexism, ignorance, arrogance, betrayal, blades, blood, sweat and tears!! Explaining and introduction is over, it's time to play!! Yikes, I think I have issues

-Vanillathunder215


	6. Hidden Secrets

XxXxXx

2012 Hama, Syria

For a moment no one moved, the lingering echo of Gerson's voice hypnotic, holding them fast in utter shock, but then it faded, breaking the spell. Then they all turned and dashed for Gerson's room at the same time, fighting to be first through the door like they were grade schoolers.

"Well, I had to go through all the other junk first to get the good stuff." Gerson explained, ignoring the scuffle behind him, "Easily 75 of the stuff on any computer is worthless and only a fraction of what's left over is of any real use to us."

"Yes, yes, we know." Sura snapped impatiently, "But what did you find?"

"Would you chill? I'm enjoying my moment of glory here." Gerson scowled, "Anyway, after getting rid of all that I found a couple of documents, some files, and an e-mail or two."

"Wait…can you hack into their e-mails from here?" Desmond asked.

"Maybe." Gerson shrugged, "Only problem with that is if they are already logged on another computer. Then I can't access anything within their e-mail…only monitor what they do. Kinda like parental control. That would be a good idea…we could probably get more up to date information that way. If I put it in right, we wouldn't be discovered for years!"

"What did you find?!"

"Jeez, keep your hair on, lady!" Gerson said, "I'm getting there! Well, since Sura seems to be on the verge of pulling a Mt. Vesuvius…"

"Gerson…"

"Fine, fine. I'll give you the simplified version since Abstergo apparently has a harder time then me coming to the point. Basically they have run out of viable subjects to run in the Animus to look up memories on their descendants since Desmond got loose and they can't find Sura or me or Desmond's parents and all the others whose ancestors might be candidates are dead, gone or missing. So, since they found that Desmond's ancestor was such a good source of information on the whereabouts of the Piece of Eden, they decided to pursue that track."

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked, "They don't have Desmond anymore, they can't access Altair's memories without Desmond."

"Not quite." Gerson corrected, "You see, another file indicated that Abstergo had been working on another project; one that involves using someone's DNA to look up _their_ memories, not their ancestor's. It's a complicated process, something I think only Lucy would understand, but what it boils down to is this; they don't want Desmond or me or anymore "subjects"…they want DNA directly from the memory holder."

"Wait…that means" Lucy started, looking a little sick. Desmond got a very bad feeling about that. If it meant what he thought it might…no, he couldn't bring himself to even think about it.

"Yeah…they're looking for Altair himself." Gerson said, giving the now pale Desmond a sympathetic look, "They're looking for where he's buried so they can extract his DNA."

Desmond felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Never before had he ever gave thought to the fact that Altair was actually dead. He just considered Altair not there. Like he was in another country or something but not…dead. Simply thinking about it was bad enough but now someone was trying to_…to dig him up_? No, it was too much. Desmond had practically lived side by side with Altair for over a week, felt like he truly knew the assassin. He felt sick.

"Desmond? Are you ok?" he heard Lucy ask but he couldn't answer. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth.

Altair's dead. More than just dead, actually; he was a dusty pile of bones buried somewhere. Just bones. How? How the hell could someone as invincible as Altair die? Did he die soon after the memories Desmond saw or did he live to be far older? Was he killed by an enemy, by an assassination gone wrong, or did he die naturally? Somehow, none of those ways seemed a fitting way for Altair to die. He seemed just too damn stubborn to die. But the thought that he was dead, was now nothing more than skeleton, was too much for Desmond.

"I hope he realizes that first Abstergo has to _find_ where he's buried." Gerson said as Desmond ran from the room, his hand over his mouth, "That in itself could take years."

XxXxXx

1191 Masyaf

Malik glanced around to make sure no one was watching as he slipped out of the fortress and into Masyaf. It wasn't too difficult, given how he had been doing this since he was a novice slinking out, usually with Altair and Badoura at his side, to go mess around in the city. This time, however, the punishment for getting caught would be far worse than boxed ears and various chores.

Once out of the fortress he could relax a bit, but he still had to keep a wary eye out for any of the patrolling assassin guards or, far worse, one of Kamal's men. If they saw him, it would be his death sentence.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he approached one of the houses, but allowed himself to glance around one last time, taking great pains to carefully scan the rooftops, for anyone who might turn curious eyes on him. He didn't see anyone and he didn't think anyone was _that_ good to escape his scrutiny. After all, he had spent his life training with Altair and Badoura and _no one_ could hide better than Badoura. Feeling satisfied, he opened the door and walked in.

Instantly, he found himself staring down the business end of several swords but he wasn't overly alarmed.

"Safety and peace, my friends." He said.

"Ah, Malik, you have finally arrived." A voice he quickly recognized as the rafiq from Acre, "Come in. We were starting to get worried."

"My apologizes. I was just being extra careful coming here." Malik said as the blades disappeared like magic, "I would rather this go unnoticed."

The room was small, and not very well lit, with nothing but a table in the middle. Sitting at the table was the rafiqs from Damascus and Acre, the only cities to be truly affected by this new sudden change. The rafiqs from Tyre and Arsuf should also be there, but the crusaders had seen to it that the bureaus in both cities were destroyed. Some assassins had made it home, but not the rafiqs.

In the flickering shadows Malik noticed the outlines of several silent guards and was pleased. They were taking this seriously after all.

"This is starting to get out of hand." The rafiq from Acre, Muzaffar, said, "If we can't even trust our own leaders…"

"Yes, yes, you've said that about fifty times already, my friend." The Damascus rafiq, Hasan, said, "Let's get to the matter at hand; how in the nine hells did Kamal get to the position of master?"

"He said that it has something to do with orders from the head Alamut bureau." Malik said, "However, I don't see how that's possible. For one, it's a long dangerous ride from here to Persia and even worse going through those mountains. For another thing, no one has left to or from Alamut. They probably don't even know what's happened, let alone care."

"So why would he lie his way into the position of master?" Hasan asked, "Being master is not only one of the most impossible jobs there is but if he doesn't do it right someone is bound to kill him before long. If he's here for that thing that corrupted Al Mualim…"

"I don't think he even knows of it." Malik said quickly, seeing the two rafiqs get nervous at the mere mention of the Piece of Eden, "He can't find it anyway, not without a long intensive search that would have been better executed at a much lower rank, where no one would pay any attention to him."

"No one accused him of being smart, Malik." Muzaffar reminded him, "But I agree with you on that; he's most likely not after the Piece of Eden. Maybe this has something to do Altair, perhaps? It's no secret they hate each other and Kamal has just about ripped apart the fortress looking for him since he arrived."

"It might, but why take it out on the rest of the brotherhood?" Hasan asked, "No, this goes deeper than any bad blood between two men, no matter how bad it seems."

"He's going after Badoura as well." Malik said, half to himself.

"That I'm not going to worry about." Hasan said, making Malik look up sharply, "Badoura can look after herself. She'll get herself worked up just because she's a woman, but then she'll bite back harder than a snake. She'll be fine. She always comes out better than anyone."

Malik had to admit that to be true. She never seemed to be bothered by whatever drama was being played out, no matter how deep she seemed to be in it.

"There's another thing." Malik said, "Though he wasn't able to wholly confirm it, Altair has discovered that Conrad of Montferrat is indeed in Acre as of now and something has gotten him and all his men stirred up. Rumors whisper of revenge against us for the death of his father, William."

"One of the templars Altair killed." Muzaffar commented, "I never thought there was much affection between them…and I know there isn't any love lost between Conrad and Richard. Perhaps it has to do with him that's got the Montferrat whelp excited?"

"No, Richard is busy is Arsuf, as you well know." Malik said, "Besides, Altair was attacked in Acre…they were actively looking for him."

"What are you trying to say Malik?"

"I'm not sure. All I know is that we have unexplained threats coming from the inside as well as from the outside." Malik said, sighing in frustration.

"So what do you propose we do about it?" Muzaffar asked, leaning back in his chair.

"We will have to be the ones to take care of the inside threat. We are the only ones who can politically influence what goes on around here and we're the ones that the others are looking to." Malik said, not noticing the amused looks on the other two rafiqs' faces, "Most of the assassins are rather disgruntled at this sudden new change and many remember the last time we saw him…and that little fight between him and Altair. I think we'll find most rather willing to help us out."

"To do what?"

"For now, we go back to our bureaus and pretend like Kamal has us under his thumb but all the while we get the assassins to spy on what he's doing. I'm not sure what to do after that…I'll think of something."

"And what of Conrad?"

"That will be Altair's job. He can't stand for sitting around and waiting anyway and will stand even less for what he considers politics." Malik was pacing by now, still oblivious to the amused rafiqs, "Besides, he can't stay in the fortress, not with Kamal there. The place will blow up if it comes to blows between them again. No, we'll take care of the problem inside and Altair will take care of the outside problem."

Suddenly he glanced up at the two older rafiqs, who were trying not to laugh, "What?"

"Here we are, two old men, being outclassed by a mere puppy." Hasan said, "Alright, Malik, it sounds good enough for me. You're taking the reins on this one."

XxXxXx

2012, Masyaf, Syria

"Man, are you sure you wanna do this?" Gerson asked as he, Desmond, Lucy and Sura crouched behind the same boulder they had that morning, "I mean, we could always get what we want another way…"

"No." Desmond said, "I want to get whatever might be there before the Templars do. They really don't need to get their paws on that stuff."

They were back in Masyaf, this time in the dead of night. The darkness around them seemed impenetrable, the only source of light were the soft glows from the various pieces of equipment still around the fortress walls. Apparently, Abstergo wasn't too worried about thieves.

"There are only four people guarding the inside of the ruins. Everyone else I think has gone to a hotel in Hama or Masyaf." Lucy said, "But there's no one left inside that's still working. They seemed very laid back on this project…I wonder why."

"I don't really care." Gerson, "This only works to our favor. Come on, let's go before I change my mind."

"Are you scared of the dark Gerson?" Sura asked teasingly.

"After that incident with Desmond? Shit yeah." Gerson dourly.

The four slunk all the way up to the gates without incident but stopped when they heard the low murmur of two of the four guards conversing. Both Gerson and Desmond felt their hands itching for want to kill the Templars but both knew better than that. A dead body, after all, attracts attention faster than if they had gone up and introduced themselves as assassins. No, the guards would live.

Which was why each of them carried a small capsule filled with Halothane vapors. They worked rather like smelling salts; snap it open and the vapors would pour out. Halothane itself was rather antiquated and not used very much anymore but it would get the job done and the assassins didn't really care all that much if the guards suffered from any of the adverse effects of the drug. The hardest part would be to convince the guard to inhale it.

Lucy snuck up behind her guard and crouched down below a small wall, the capsule poised over her thumb with her index and middle finger, ready to snap it open. As the guard walked back towards Lucy's hiding spot, she flicked a small pebble over the ground. Not very loud or very far, but enough to make the guard curious and bend down to investigate…and got a lungful of the anesthesia.

Sura chose pretty much the same route, except that, as her victim moved closer, she simply popped up out of nowhere and snapped her capsule open before the guard could fully register what he had seen.

Gerson, rather frustrated with all this slinking and creeping, took a more direct approach. Computer nerd he may be (he preferred to be called a "hacker") he was rather energetic and today hadn't been all that exciting…until now that is. He simply stood in the shadows, utterly amazed at the guard's oblivion, as he walked by, not even seeing the big assassin. With a sigh that should have alerted the guard, Gerson fell into step behind his target and, after a few steps, slammed his fist into the man's head, dropping him like a stone.

"While I don't think you're going to wake up anytime real soon, best not to leave anything to chance." He murmured to the slumbering man, snapping open his capsule, "Pleasant dreams."

Desmond actually had the easiest time. As soon as he spotted his target, he let the assassin in him take over. He ran silently up behind the guard and leaped, judging the distance perfectly as he landed on the guard's shoulders, one hand muffling his shout and the other practically shoving the broken capsule up his nose. Desmond sat on his back for a few seconds to make sure he was truly unconscious before dragging him to a quiet corner and leaving him sleeping peacefully.

"Ok, where is this room you were talking about?" Lucy asked, "As I said, I wasn't paying that close attention to that memory."

"This way." Desmond said, "It's underground."

The way he led them through the darkened ruins was rather spooky, given how he seemed to know every turn and passage as if he had lived there his whole life. In truth, he didn't really know where he was going…but some force inside him pushed him along, going deeper within the fortress. Finally he stopped in the middle of the hall.

"There. That's where it is." He said motioning towards the wall, "Uh…I think the passage caved in."

"What was your first clue I wonder?" Sura said sarcastically, "Great, now what?"

"Oh for the love of God!" Gerson said, "Weren't you the one getting on to me about being an assassin or not? There's more than one way in!"

"It's blocked, dumb ass. Meaning you can't get through it."

"Shut it. Look, the stones are really loose right here and here while the support for the walls and ceiling are still pretty strong." Gerson said, pointing, "We can pull these rocks away in no time. Jeez, this means you get to do some actual work, Sura."

Desmond laughed and pushed between them before Sura could reply, her eyes narrowed dangerously at Gerson, who was smirking victoriously, and began to push and prod at the stones, trying to determine which to pull out, like a giant Jenga puzzle.

Most of the stones were rather large and heavy and, though Desmond was strong enough in himself, without Gerson's immense strength it would have taken them all night just to get to the small tunnel behind the loose stones.

The four quickly followed the tunnel, noting how the walls glistened with condensation. They were far underground now, under the groundwater source even, which was evident by the slight popping of their ears as the air pressure changed. Suddenly, the tunnel opened up, the wet walls falling away into darkness.

"Crap, how are we going to search if we can't even find all the walls?" Lucy groaned, sore and frustrated.

"Hang on, there's a trick I learned back when I was a kid." Desmond quickly reassured her, pulling out his flashlight, "See, this cavern has a flat roof so if I shine my flashlight directly up into the ceiling, the light should reflect off of it and reach out towards the walls."

"I don't think that's going to work, Des." Lucy said, "These are rock walls…there's nothing to reflect off of."

"Watch and be amazed!" Desmond said, rather pleased with himself.

He pointed his flashlight up and clicked it on. Sure enough, the light beam reflected off the ceiling, bouncing out to the walls, so that the cavern was illuminated in a faint glow that reached out to every corner. Desmond set his flashlight on the ground, still pointing up, and looked around.

It was a fairly large cavern, given how it had to be carved out of solid rock, with astonishingly smooth walls, ceiling and floor. There wasn't much in the way of decoration but Desmond immediately noticed that a familiar symbol was carved onto the floor, the sweeping assassin symbol in the shape of an "A" whose ends flared out with all the grace and intimidation of curved blade. They were definitely in the right place.

"Look! Des, you were right!" Sura said, pointing to the far corner, where several shelves Desmond didn't remember seeing stood, over flowing with rather delicate looking scrolls. They didn't seem very organized, as if whoever had put them there had hastily shoved them in the shelves.

"Remember, we're only here to collect them. Don't try to unroll them yet." Sura warned, "We leave that for Abida."

They nodded and went about their work, Desmond shaking off his slight shock at the realization that he was going to have to work with his mother again. Though they had apologized and more or less forgiven each other, things were still rather awkward. Plus he had a feeling he would have to finally tell his parents about Altair. Why that made him uncomfortable he didn't know; he felt like he was hiding a stray dog or cat in his room that he knew he wouldn't be allowed to keep.

After a while Desmond found himself working side by side with Gerson, the girls carefully packing the scrolls away a little ways off.

"Hey, you alright?" Gerson asked suddenly, taking Desmond off guard, "You were rather…agitated earlier today."

"Yeah, I'm good." Desmond said, "I just wasn't expecting that. Didn't think Abstergo would resort to grave robbing, is all."

"You're good at bull shitting, I'll give you that." Gerson grinned, "You just don't like imagining Altair dead."

"Would you and Sura stop doing that? It's giving me the creeps." Desmond said rather moodily.

Gerson grinned wider, "Not a chance. I've spent a long time picking on Sura and you're fresh blood. I'm not letting that go. But, seriously, I don't think we're going to find him."

"Huh?"

"I don't think we, or Abstergo for that matter, are going to find Altair."

"What makes you say that?"

"Desmond, we are in the middle of a God forsaken desert." Gerson snorted, "There are hundreds of thousands of places he could be. Not only that but he worked in several different cities, covering hundreds of miles of roads between them. He could have gotten killed on the job in any of those cities or on the road and left where he fell…I don't think I need to tell you what city guards did to the bodies of criminals back then."

"I don't know man." Desmond said slowly, "I think he's around here someplace. Don't ask me how I know, but…shit, it's just…God damn it, I just know, all right?!"

"Ok, whatever you say." Gerson agreed, not totally convinced, "You got your theories and I got mine…hopefully these scrolls will tell us what we need to know."

"Hey, I was right about those, you know."

"Alright boys, we're done here." Lucy said, "Let's go. It's almost four in the morning and Abstergo rises early so let's get going before someone realizes we're here."

They quickly scampered back through the tunnel and pushed some of the stones back into place just enough to allay suspicions for a little while and started back out. They were feeling pretty good, almost giddy. With the loot that they had, they were easily a good several steps ahead of the Templars. This might even provide the…

"Hey you! Stop!"

They froze as someone rounded the corner of the passage, looking suspiciously like a guard.

"What are you doing here? The castle is closed during the excavation." The guard demanded. Then they noticed that he was wearing, not Abstergo issued clothing, but a uniform that identified him as one of the fortress' security guards. Apparently he hadn't noticed the unconscious Abstergo guards yet…but he did notice the odd-shaped bags they were carrying. His eyes widened.

"Thieves! Someone call the police, we got thieves here!"

"Oh shit." Desmond mumbled.

XxXxXx

A/N: Doesn't look too good for Desmond and co. does it? Seems Lucy forgot about the locals. I'm sorry, there wasn't a lot of Altair in this chapter. Next one has more of our favorite assassin, I promise. Review, please. Everyone has been lovely so far on the reviews and I LOVE yall for that!! Reviews make me feel loved and those warm fuzzies make my fingers type faster.

-Vanillathunder215


	7. Good Luck Kiss

XxXxXx

XxXxXx

1191 Masyaf

Altair gritted his teeth as he pulled the strip of cloth tight around his torso, ignoring the warning stabs of pain from his protesting ribs. It had only been a few weeks since he was initially injured and, though his ribs were starting to look much better, he was still far from healed and it still hurt if he breathed too deep or too quickly. His leg also wasn't fully healed but he could walk around without hindrance and that was all he really cared about.

Malik had left a few days ago, he had to, to avoid anyone becoming suspicious, but before he had left he had told Altair everything; from Kamal becoming master to the secret meeting he had had with the other rafiqs. Altair had a fit when he found out that he had to call Kamal "master" but was grimly satisfied to find out that Kamal was near frantic to find him. He hadn't lost his touch after all.

He was, however, rather impressed with Malik's plan, seeing as how Malik used to never go against the creed no matter what situation rose up. Now here he was, planning a reconnaissance mission against the master himself.

Altair smiled a little to himself as he gave an extra tug to the bandage; he had finally succeeded in corrupting Malik. It had only taken half his life to do so, but it was worth it.

But his biggest, and most pleasant, surprise had come from Malik's plans for him; he was to go back to Acre and finish what he had started. Altair had been rather pleasantly taken aback that Malik, of all people, had entrusted such a critical mission to him. Even though their friendship was on the mend, Malik still had plenty of reasons not to trust him.

It only gave Altair more reason to get going. He wasn't going to fail this time.

"So you're leaving." It wasn't a question.

Altair turned and saw Badoura watching him, her light brown eyes unreadable as she scrutinized him.

"I have to." He said.

She didn't say anything as she walked towards him, snorting slightly as she took in his shoddy wrapping work. She remained silent as she took the bandage from him and started to re-wrap it around his ribs. When she finished, she took a step back to admire her handiwork and nodded in approval before turning her attention back to the assassin.

Altair suddenly realized that she was wearing the long white robes of an assassin, though where she had gotten some that were made for a woman he didn't know. Wherever she had gotten them, they seemed to have been made for her; cut perfectly to hide her gender yet, when she wanted to, reveal enough curves and skin to leave one's imagination on fire.

"I'm going with you." She said simply.

Altair was nearly knocked flat on his back by her unexpected statement but, to his credit, recovered rather quickly. He noticed how tense she was, how hard her eyes seemed, as she waited for his reply.

"Fine."

Badoura started, "Fine? That's it?" she blurted out, even more shocked than Altair had been a second earlier, "What, no arguing about how I'll slow you down, or how I don't have the experience or how I'll be safer here?"

"Well, the way you said told me anything I said wasn't going to make a difference so why fight it?" Altair asked, extremely flustered, "What else did you want me to say?"

"Damn it, Altair!" Badoura said in mock anger, "I spent three days putting together my argument for this! I had just about every argument you could have come up with covered, even the most absurd ones! And you just go and say "fine"!!"

Altair found his tongue was twisted in his mouth, making it impossible to speak, but he realized it wasn't necessary. Badoura burst out laughing at the sight of him fumbling over his tongue, ending the argument.

"Oh I love teasing you, little brother!" she said, "It's even more fun when you're awake to defend yourself."

She threw a pair of saddlebags at him, "Come on, get dressed, we better leave. I've already packed everything we'll need and your weapons are with Zauba'a. We have one last thing we need to do before we leave…something I think you'll find highly amusing."

Altair nodded and pulled his own robes on, feeling tension he didn't know he had had release in his belly as he pulled the hood over his head. Al Mualim had told him that who he was and what he was had been strongly linked, too strongly to separate apparently, but he never really understood until he had been several weeks without his weapons and his clothes. It had been even worse than when he had been demoted…at least then he could move around.

Suddenly he stopped as he was buckling on his gauntlets and snapped his gaze over to Badoura, who was heading out the door.

"What the hell do you mean "it's even more fun while I'm awake"?!"

Aaaaaaa

The two assassins made their silent way through the maze of hallways, never allowing anyone to see them, as they headed towards the master's chambers. Badoura had been right in her assessment that Altair would like her plan, wickedly so, one might add. One involving an ornate dagger, a heavy wooden door and a letter.

It didn't take them very long to impale the letter to the door and even less time to leave, but they knew perfectly well that the effects of it would last far longer. In fact, if they timed it right, they were pretty sure they would hear Kamal's scream of outrage as they rode away through the valley.

"Hurry, hurry." Badoura whispered as they fled into the stables, "I'll bet you it'll echo for about thirty seconds."

"Thirty seconds? With that letter?" Altair asked incredulously, "More like forty-five, maybe even longer."

"You want to bet on that?" She asked as she saddled her horse, a gelding she had found abandoned outside Damascus some years ago. It was an unusual color, his body a rich gold while his mane, tail, legs, nose and the tips of his ears were an inky black. No one knew why someone had just decided to leave the miserable creature on the side of the road, but Badoura loved him. She took him in, naming him Katane, and after he gained his health back, became her loving trusted steed.

"After you cleaned me out last time? I think not." Altair said dryly as he turned to his horse's stall, stopping a moment to quickly re-arm himself with the weapons piled neatly outside the stall.

Zauba'a stuck his head out and quietly watched Altair buckle on his various weapons, waiting until the assassin finally turned to face him before sticking his nose out in a greeting. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen Altair in several weeks and he was more excited than usual, or maybe it was because Altair was a little closer than he normally was when Zauba'a greeted him. Whatever it was, Altair suddenly found himself practically being kissed by his horse as the stallion's nose and mouth collided with the assassin's face, slobber covering him.

"Isn't good luck to be kissed by a horse before starting a journey?" Badoura asked, trying her absolute hardest not to laugh, "Or is it a camel?"

XxXxXx

2012 Masyaf

Something flashed out of the corner of Desmond's eye, but before he could react something flew past his face and struck the man. His eyes bugged as he reached up and grabbed at his neck, where a black fletched dart had embedded itself, before dropping wordlessly to his knees. His eyes rolled up and he fell, unconscious, to the ground.

Desmond spun around to see Lucy tuck the dart gun back into the holster hidden inside her jacket.

"Sorry about that Desmond." She said, "Didn't mean to shoot that close to your face."

"Yeah." Desmond said, "So how come we had to shove a damn capsule up the others noses while we could have done that and saved a crap load of time?"

"Because those capsules are easier to get and cheap, for one." Lucy said, "And two, I didn't really want to listen to you and Gerson whining about how boring that was."

Desmond and Gerson looked at each other.

"She _does_ have a point." Gerson pointed out.

"I know I do." Lucy said, throwing her bag back over her shoulder, "Now come on. That wasn't a very long lasting drug he got so we need to get out of here before he wakes up. Besides, I don't know if anyone heard his screaming."

The four assassins sped back the way they came, passing the still unconscious Abstergo guards. As they neared the gates Desmond couldn't help thinking, there's no way that this was _that_ easy.

He shouldn't have tried to ignore the anxiety he felt earlier. He should have ever ignored the assassin instincts within him. Suddenly, his eyes widened in realization. Desperately he tried to stop, throwing his arms out to halt his friends.

"Damn…too late."

"ASSASSINS!!"

"RUN!"

The four turned and bolted like scared deer as Abstergo employees, most with guns, came charging up the path where they had been waiting for whoever had drugged the guards.

Sheer luck gave them an extra edge, as well as a bit of time, as the assassins suddenly found a semi-hidden alcove in the wall. They quickly dove into it, trying to buy a few extra seconds in order to escape.

"Look, there was a hole in the wall back there. Go and I'll distract them!" Desmond said.

"HOW!?"

"What better way to distract them then by giving them an easy target?"

Before any of them could reply, or argue, Desmond turned and took a flying leap, grabbing onto a ledge and, with his heart in his mouth, flew hand over hand up the rough wall like a spider. He didn't look down to see if they heeded his words or not but leaped from the wall he was on to a ledge perpendicular to him.

It was so easy, the old deteriorating condition of the walls made climbing them child's play. Desmond felt himself start to relax a little as he moved easily over the walls, even enjoy himself a little. That is, until bullets began exploding around him, some so close that he swore he could smell the burning gunpowder. Unfortunately, the part of him that was Altair wasn't at all familiar with bullets so was rather silent. Altair did, however, know how to climb and climb fast, and that was all Desmond really needed as he scrambled across the walls like a lost monkey. Mentally he tried to keep track of how much time had passed so he could give the others plenty of chance to escape, but every time a bullet popped into the wall inches from his face he lost track.

"Would it be too much to ask you idiots to actually hit something once in a while!!" an irate voice screamed below, "Shoot him already!!"

He heard more and more people pour into the area and knew that one of them would hit him…eventually. Still, he figured enough time had passed and he began a more deliberate course up to the top of the wall.

BAM! A much bigger hole exploded right next to his left knee. Someone apparently had gotten a rifle.

Yup, time to go, Desmond thought as he picked up the pace, come on, Altair, don't fail me now.

_I won't. _

Desmond nearly fell off the wall in utter shock. Did someone just happen to scream that from below or was he dreaming?

_Move. Now._

As shocked as he was, Desmond found the ability to move again and began to scramble over the lip of the wall…only to get the cuff if his pants caught on a protruding support nail. He tugged vehemently at it but it was stuck fast, and tangled so he couldn't simply pull it back out again.

"There, look! He's stuck up there! Shoot him, get him down, catch him, I don't care just do it!!"

Desmond really began to panic then and tugged even more frantically with his leg. He managed to rip the fabric a little bit, but not enough to get loose. Bullets were exploding with more frequency around him, but were further away, as if they were just distractions. Desmond chanced a glance down and saw that several ladders were being brought in. They wanted him alive it seemed.

"Damn it." He moaned, "Why here? Couldn't I have gotten stuck on the other side?"

He glanced back up to the top of the wall, mere inches above his hands. If he could get a handhold on the top, he could pull himself up hard enough to pull his leg free. Gripping tightly with his left hand, he stretched up his right and groped around on the top, feeling for a good hold.

Yes! He exalted silently as he grabbed what felt like an out-jutting stone. He pulled himself up a little bit more, just enough to allow his left hand to reach out and grab the stone as well, and began to pull himself up…only to find that the nail had managed to get caught in the thick part of his cuff, the part that doesn't like to rip at all.

"No!" he cried out, hearing the scrape of ladders against the wall and footsteps pounding on the rungs, "No, you won't take me!"

Squeezing his eyes shut he pulled as hard as he could, feeling the fabric give just a little. His arms began to burn from the constant strain and sweat dripped into his eyes, making them burn. His pounding heart was starting to make his chest hurt as well as make him feel rather dizzy. Sweaty fingers started to slip from the rock, making him panic.

"I thought you said you weren't going to fail me?" he asked out loud in despair, as the Templars got even closer.

In one last desperate attempt Desmond threw the very last of his strength into his arms as he pulled. But, as he did so, something gripped his arms in a vice-like grip and pulled. With the beautiful sound of tearing cloth, his cuff slid free of the support nail and he flopped onto the narrow ledge of the wall.

Bullets peppered the wall around him, making him move rather quickly, suddenly energized as adrenaline flooded his system. He flipped over the ledge and half scrambled, half fell, down the imposing walls, dropping the last few feet onto the rocky ground. He could hear the outraged screams of the Abstergo Templars but he didn't really want to hang around to hear what they saying clearly.

Desmond didn't really pay much attention to his surroundings as he ran, just as long as he put as much distance between him and Abstergo as possible. He scrambled madly down the hill the fortress was situated on, more often than not falling and rolling before crashing painfully into a rock or bush before picking himself back up and continuing his mad dash.

He was almost to the rock wall where they had originally set out late last night when something grabbed him and pulled him behind a rock, one hand clamped tight over his mouth. Desmond began to flail, biting and kicking at his unknown assailant.

"Calm down, it's just me." Gerson's voice whispered roughly in his ear, "Stay quiet until they pass."

Desmond nodded and held still, trying to keep from panting too loudly as several Abstergo employees ran by.

"Damn it, where did he go?"

"I don't know. Shit, we don't got the time for this. I am NOT climbing around on these rocks!"

"Come on, let's go. You saw the way that one can climb. He's long gone by now."

If it weren't for the lingering shock and utter exhaustion that fell over him suddenly, Desmond would have laughed at how similar this was to whenever Altair escaped from city guards; the mad dash, the vanishing act and the cursing guards.

As the last of the adrenaline left his system, Desmond was suddenly aware of just how exhausted he was. His whole body hurt from wall crawling like he was Spiderman, trying to pull himself free from that damn nail and his rather graceful run downhill.

"Hey, Desmond, you alright? You look like hell." He heard Gerson ask but couldn't find the energy to even answer as he slumped like a limp rag to the ground.

One thing he did wonder about before he blacked out was; who the hell had pulled him up on the wall?

XxXxXx

1191

They weren't nearly as secretive as they trotted out of the city, seeing as how difficult it would be to hide horses as distinctive as Zauba'a and Katane. It was still rather early in the morning so not many people were out, making it easier to navigate through the city. The few guards who were out either looked the other way or would casually remark to someone nearby about how one of Kamal's men was down one street or another, loudly enough for the two to hear.

They made it to the gates with almost ridiculous ease, giving the guard at the gate a casual wave as they went past. But before they went too far, Altair pulled up short.

"What?" Badoura asked, frowning as she looked back at him.

"It's about 300 meters from here to the valley entrance, correct?"

"Yeah…why…?"

"Race you!"

Before Badoura could reply, a grey and white streak flew past her. Stifling a quick curse she gave Katane a sharp squeeze with her legs and sent him charging after Zauba'a and Altair, who already had a healthy head start. Yet, despite that head start, Zauba'a was bigger and carrying more weight than the smaller, less laden Katane. The buckskin gelding quickly closed the gap between them but neither refused to let the other take the lead so hurtled neck to neck down the path to the valley, their riders letting them run, enjoying the sheer thrill of the cool morning air rushing by them, laughing and throwing mocking insults at each other.

They slowed reluctantly as they passed the ancient Roman palisades that marked the exit of Masyaf's boundaries, the excited horses refusing to go slower than a trot.

"We won." Badoura announced when she caught her breath.

"Just which horse…where you…watching?" Altair panted, trying, and failing, not to show that he was hurting, "Zauba'a had…his entire front half…in front of…Katane."

"In your deluded little world maybe." Badoura conceded, prudently not saying anything about Altair's condition. No need to injure his pride this early in the morning, she concluded.

Altair let the argument go, not wanting to waste air on something so trivial. He reached down and ran his hand down his stallion's neck, noting with pride that it wasn't even damp with sweat despite the run, as he surveyed the area before him. They were nearing the old watch fort, a couple dozen assassin guards keeping close watch on it and the narrow exit out of the valley into the kingdom beyond. Most merely afforded the two a single glance before losing interest. They had been out all night and were only interested in the end of their shift.

Altair, purely out of habit, allowed his vision to slip into his eagle vision, taking a quick survey of all those around. Next to him, Badoura glowed a very bright blue-ish white. So she knew something he needed to know, did she? He made a mental note to ask her about that later. Everyone else in the area also glowed blue, though not as brightly as Badoura. Whether it was because Badoura was simply closer to him or the assassin soldiers obvious lethargy he wasn't sure, but they were blue and that was all that mattered. He was about to switch back to regular sight when something caught his attention. Standing amongst the other guards was a red outlined form. Altair stared curiously at it; he wasn't one of Kamal's men, that he was certain of, and Altair knew he didn't have a disagreement of any sort with this particular men (granted, there were quite a few so he could have forgotten, but he didn't think so). He shook his head, allowing his vision to slid back into normal.

Could his sixth sense have been wrong? It seemed unlikely, as it had never been wrong before in his life. Feeling a little anxious, he glanced back at the man that he had marked in red again in eagle vision, just to make sure that he had been right. Again, the man was red. There was no mistaking it; the man was an enemy…at least to Altair. He couldn't be certain that he was a traitor per se but this wasn't something to ignore.

However, there was nothing he could do about it right now so he gave the man one last long look, burning his face into his photographic memory before continuing on, deciding not to say anything to Badoura. They had enough to worry about.

As they passed by a dead-looking tree that had only a few leaves clinging stubbornly to its branches, a large bird suddenly took off out of it, its loud shriek of disapproval sounding much like the outraged scream of a human as it echoed off the valley walls. Badoura and Altair exchanged amused glances while they bit their lips to keep from laughing out loud and looking like total fools.

XxXxXx

A/N: See? I told you I would make this more a more Altair inclined chapter. And before anyone asks, you'll find out what the letter said later. It's coming, don't worry. It has its own plan. Oh, and in case anyone wants to know, Badoura's horse is names after yet another Islamic demon; this one a demon that is a vampire like being, "lean, hairy and possessing of sharp teeth". On another note, if you leave Masyaf (in the game that is) there IS a glitch where one of the assassin guards is highlighted red in eagle vision. I found that out last week. Try it; you'll see what I'm talking about. He doesn't attack you though. It's just a glitch. Heeheehee I got a new muse over the weekend; a really pretty blue/green/some purple/some red betta fish name Donatello (yes I named a fish). He proofreads my stuff (sometimes anyway) from his tank by my computer. Lol, he likes watching me play AC…I think maybe its because he's a Siamese Fighting Fish that he likes watching fighting scenes…or it's the bright flashing lights, haven't figured it out yet, XD!

-Vanillathunder215


	8. Blade of Fate

XxXxXx

1191

It was later that afternoon when Badoura and Altair made it to Acre. They walked slowly through the shade the cliffs provided, welcoming the respite from the hot Syrian sun. It may have been rather late in the year, but the sun still wasn't showing any signs of giving way to winter.

They rounded the last corner, the outer edges of Acre's walls coming into view…

"Whoa, whoa." Altair said sharply, pulling Zauba'a up short, "By all that's good on heaven and earth…look at that!"

Badoura edged Katane up next to Altair and followed his gaze, her eyes widening in shock. There were hundreds, no…thousands of them. Crusaders camped out in front of Acre. It was like turning back the clock; hadn't this scene already played out less than a year ago when Richard came through and nearly burned Acre to the ground?

"Altair, doesn't Richard still hold Acre?" Badoura asked, her light brown eyes troubled.

"More or less." Altair answered with a shrug.

"Then why are crusaders camped outside like the city is under siege?"

"What's there to take? Half the city is in ruins..." Altair said absently, staring hard at something, "And those aren't Richard's soldiers, either. Their banners are different. Richard's banners are red with three lions on them…these are red and white with a crest on it I've never seen before."

"House of Montferrat, maybe?" Badoura hazarded a guess.

"Maybe…" Altair trailed off, his grey eyes focusing on something else. Three rather irritable looking guards were wandering around, apart from the main horde. None of them noticed the intense, hawk-like stare of the assassin.

Altair narrowed his focus on those three, his eyes locked onto their lips as they talked. It was the farthest he had ever tried to listen in on a conversation, but slowly the babble of the army, the snort and stomp of the horses, and all other background white noise was tuned out and he could catch bits and pieces of the conversation.

"…leave soon…day after tomorrow…morning."

"About time…make us wait weeks…waiting for?"

"…disturbance…had to wait for signal of sorts…don't care, let's go."

"…something about a valley…narrow entrance…killed before we even see the place."

"He said don't worry…taken care of…bastards won't know we're there…assassins will be under control…"

"Hush, hush…no more…let's go before…captain will miss us."

Altair hardly noticed as they walked away. He felt something cold settle in the vicinity of his stomach. Only one city in all the holy land had an entrance through a valley like the one they were talking about, and the reference to the word "assassins" couldn't be just mere coincidence.

"Badoura, you need to go."

"Excuse me?"

"Go. Go now." Altair said, trying to keep his voice steady, "Ride as hard and as fast as you can back home. We are looking at the army that will try to destroy the brotherhood."

Aaaaaaa

Altair slipped into the city by means by one of the smaller gates around the side of the city. He had found that the army outside wasn't nearly as large as they had originally thought and, while it was definitely large enough, didn't encircle the city…just irritated traffic in the heavily traveled main entrance.

Inside the city, there were very few people walking about. Actually there were none, not even beggars, but Altair was even willing to count the guards this time just to make the city not seem like a ghost town. The eeriness of the deserted city made him very uncomfortable.

However, despite his discomfort, the lack of people made it very easy to travel through the city quickly without fear of being seen or recognized. He fled down the streets, making a beeline for the bureau.

As soon as he dropped down into the bureau from the roof, he knew something was wrong. He stayed in his crouch on the ground, his eyes fixed on the ground, his ears straining to catch the slightest sound. The utter silence he heard concerned him more than any noise ever would. There should have been _some_ sort of noise.

Easing to his feet, Altair crept silently to the doorway, ears still alert for the slightest noise. Suddenly the coppery smell of blood assaulted his nose, so strong that he could taste it even. Blood? Here?

Moving very slightly he glanced around the corner; Muzaffar was not in his customary position behind the counter. Instead, a dark red stain dyed the wood. He could see more splashed on the floor but he couldn't see the source. Taking a risk, he leaned out a tiny bit more…and saw an arm, still and unmoving, clad in white that was dyed crimson. With a sick feeling in the pit of his belly, Altair took another chance and took a closer look at his dead brother, curious as to whether he knew him or not.

One look was all it took. Altair suddenly saw red as fury filled him. The rational side of him cautioned him to use his sword; increase the distance between him and the people who dared take on an assassin bureau, but the raging primal side of him screamed to use the short blade, to make it personal. He drew his short sword.

"Oh look, we missed one."

Altair didn't saw a word. He waited until the four had drawn their swords before bursting into motion, rage amplifying his speed. Before any of them could react he had gotten within the range of the man nearest him and rammed his blade into his throat as hard as he could, nearly taking the man's head off his shoulders.

Altair ripped his blade free in a shower of blood and turned to face the other three. If they were startled or afraid, they hid it very well. They showed no emotion, not even glancing at their dead companion as they fanned out, attempting to box the assassin in. Altair hid a smile; they had no idea who they were dealing with.

All three attacked at the same time, just as Altair expected them to. He easily dodged the first two blows, seeing through the ruse and quickly stepped inside the third, more serious blow. He brought his short blade to bear but his attacker was faster than he had originally thought, snapping his sword back around and brought in towards Altair's seemingly unprotected left side. Altair spun in a circle, his blade close to his side, neatly parrying the blow as he snapped out his hidden blade. As he completed the spin, his left hand shot out and plunged into the not-quite-recovered man's neck, severing the jugular vein. Like the first man, he went down without a sound.

Altair turned to the remaining two. "I can guarantee that you two will make some noise when you die."

Still, they didn't look worried. In fact, they were _smiling_, which only served to infuriate Altair even more.

Suddenly it dawned on him; they wanted him to be angry. They knew who he was, knew also that angry men don't think very clearly, resulting in mistakes, which was what they were hoping for. Altair smiled to himself. Well, if they wanted to see a master assassin go on a rampage, he wasn't going to be the one to disappoint them…well, not too much anyway.

He let out a primal scream of fury, slightly exaggerated but not by much, and charged wildly. They waited for him to come but suddenly he turned the tables on them.

Using the overturned table as a springboard, he leaped high into the air, he came down on top of them, hidden blade and short blade both working with blinding speed. None of the blows he landed were fatal, but he never missed and each hit drew a fair amount of blood. He backed off a bit to give himself a bit more room before unleashing his full fury.

The two men never had a chance; the assassin was simply too fast, ducking swings and parrying blows, parrying swings and ducking blows, never the same thing twice and always countering with a jab of his own. It was like attacking a ghost, they couldn't land a solid hit on him. Finally, finally, they appeared to be a bit unnerved, especially after they caught a flash of the feral grin Altair allowed to stretch across his face.

Suddenly, Altair decided to end the macabre game with the two men. They were tiring, their defenses down. Altair went in low, his short blade severing the ham strings of one and, before he dropped, drove his short blade just to the side of his spine, giving him the long agonizing death he had promised. He threw the dying man to the side and turned to face the last. To the man's credit, he didn't try to beg for mercy nor did he try to run. Instead he fixed a steely glare on the assassin before making one last charge at him. Altair stood still, watching the man come to him, until the last possible second, ducking down and stabbing his blade into the man's feet before dragging it up his body, practically gutting him. He grabbed the man's shirt before he fell, pulling him close, face to face. For a long moment the two stayed like that, grey eyes locked onto dark eyes. Then, in an unexpected show of mercy, Altair brought his hidden blade up and plunged it into the other's throat.

He dropped the body, ignoring it as well as the squirming of the man who was somehow still alive even though his lifeblood was pouring from the vicious wound in his back. Altair didn't care; he would be still and silent soon. Like the bodies of his brothers that lay scattered about the room. Muzaffar was dead, his blade close at hand, the body that Altair had seen from the doorway behind him, as if protecting him.

It was that body that had filled Altair with rage; a novice, barely more than a child. He hadn't even been armed! To kill an unarmed child, even if he _was_ being trained to be an assassin, was considered cowardly and dishonorable.

Two other fully-fledged assassins also lay dead at Altair's feet, in front of the rafiq and the novice. They had given their lives to defending the other two. One of them Altair knew fairly well, even got along on ok terms with him, and the other he wasn't overly fond of but he had never wished _this_ upon him.

How? How had this enemy found out where the bureau was? Nothing, inside or out, suggested that it was an assassin bureau. Looking around, one could easily assume it to be a merchant's store, run by a rather grouchy old man.

Altair clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth in frustration as more questions ricocheted around in his head. So many questions that desperately needed answering.

"So you lived." A voice from behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin. He hadn't seen nor heard anyone else, "I didn't think that something as trivial as that would kill the great assassin, the "Man in the White Hood"."

Altair spun around, his bloody short blade ready. When he saw his assailant, he nearly fell over in shock; the woman who had set him up the last time he was in Acre!

XxXxXx

Malik breathed a small sigh a relief as he approached the bureau in Jerusalem. In the midst of all this chaos of lies and deceit, the small, unassuming building seemed a sanctuary. He would finally be able to…

Malik halted suddenly, making the man walking behind him bump into him. However, the one-armed assassin didn't pay him the slightest mind. His finely honed senses were on high alert. He hadn't actually heard or seen anything, but rather he felt something…a sixth sense, screaming at him that danger laid waiting for him.

Slowly he drew his sword out, the metal barely making any noise as it slid from the leather casing. Behind him, his four men, as one, all drew their swords, instantly suspicious. Malik was probably the most rational man in the whole brotherhood; he never drew his blade unless he had a perfectly good reason and, one-armed or not, the man was deadly.

He edged around into the main part of the building, dark eyes probing into the shadows. Nothing. The room was utterly empty.

'I'm getting to be as paranoid as Altair', Malik thought to himself, 'This whole situation in Masyaf is going to my head.'

Despite his dismissing thoughts, Malik simply couldn't shake that feeling that something wasn't right…that something was hiding, lying in wait for them. But unless ghosts were starting to be a problem, you couldn't fight an enemy you couldn't see. Malik slowly, deliberately, lowered his sword and forced a more relaxed pose.

As soon as he did, something flashed through the air, aimed right for his throat.

XxXxXx

Badoura urged Katane on as hard as she dared, given the rocky terrain they were flying over. The golden gelding's hoof beats reverberated loudly off the rock so quickly that it seemed to meld into one sound punctuated only by the sharp snort he gave every stride.

Badoura pressed herself flat to his neck, murmuring encouraging words to him, though in truth she was trying to reassure herself. Despite her rather calm exterior, she was scared. Scared of the thought, no…the _reality_, of an army coming to destroy her home. True the threat lingered every day, every moment, but never had they been threatened from both within and without. It seemed so hopeless to her. Who could they trust? Who could they turn to? It seemed that only a mere handful of them were standing up to hundreds of thousands of enemies that wanted nothing more than to see them destroyed.

A single tear strayed down her face, which she angrily wiped away, blaming the wind from Katane's swift flight. She pushed all those thoughts from her mind. She needed to be strong! She needed to keep herself together if she wanted to help save her home, her family…her life.

They were speeding along, as smooth as any horse in the world could go, when suddenly the world seemed to turn inside out. One second Katane was running just fine, the next his feet were out from underneath him, sending him spinning to the ground. The buckskin let out a shrieking, panicked whinny as he fell pitched to the ground, his rider clinging helpless to his back.

Badoura didn't even have time to scream herself before they slammed into ground, sliding several feet before crashing to a halt by way of a rather convenient shrub. Badoura stayed still for a long moment, trying to regain the air that had been forced from her lungs by the impact. Her leg throbbed, but not so sharply that made her think it was broken. Katane, however, didn't move.

"Good idea, swinging the rope as the horse hits it…takes away all chance of the horse regaining his feet doesn't it?"

Badoura's eyes widened as several men came towards her, dressed in the same uniforms as the soldiers she had seen in front of Acre. She did not like the look on their faces at all.

"Thought you would like it." One of them answered, coiling a rope over his shoulder, "I knew you didn't want the assassin scum getting away."

"That's right." The one Badoura could see was in charge said, putting his foot on a rock and leaning over her trapped form, "Can't have you alerting everyone to our presense, now, can we? By God! You…you're not a man!"

Badoura frowned, "Been a soldier you forgot what a woman looks like?" she snapped.

"I thought all the assassins were men."

"What makes you think I'm actually assassin?"

"Don't play games with me, stupid woman, you and all your kind look alike, gender aside." He smirked, "Though I will admit, this will make things more interesting."

Badoura got a really bad feeling about that. The look on his face made her heart pound in panic and her stomach turn to ice. She glanced down at Katane again. Please…please, move; don't give up on me now!

"We were told to teach the assassins a lesson, starting with you of course, but first, we need to get to know each other a bit better. Don't worry, everyone will get a turn so no one will be left out."

Badoura frantically looked about, searching for any possible escape from this horrible nightmare, but she was trapped, her left leg pinned by her still horse, her sword between her hip and the ground and her left arm pinned behind her body. Tears began to course down her face as she realized she was utterly and truly trapped. Taunting laughter filled her ears, making her cry harder as they came for her.

XxXxXx

A/N: I'm sorry this is rather late, but the past few weeks have been extremely busy, with midterms and projects and papers and work and all the make-up stuff from Ike. My only typing time has been at night and I've just been passing out as soon as I fall onto my bed.

But here it is, an all assassin chapter though, but a full chapter none-the-less, with hopefully enough cliffhangers to keep you occupied for a while. Cliffhanger queen strikes again MUWAHAHAHAHA!!

-Vanillathunder215


	9. Two In One

XxXxXx

2012 Syria

Red illuminated numbers glared at Desmond as he groggily opened his eyes. He stared stupidly at them in a just-woke-up haze, the red digits not making any sense at all. But, as he woke up even more, his brain began to kick into gear. 2:17. He glanced around; he seemed to be back in the underground compound in Hama, in his own room. How he got there he didn't know, nor really cared to dwell on that. He glanced back at the clock. 2:18. His eyes widened at the realization and with a start he sat up. Had he really been asleep for seven hours?

Then he groaned. He shouldn't have sat up so fast. Every muscle in his body was aching in a loud protest to every move he made especially his arms and legs. He glanced down at his body, not surprised in the slightest to find various cuts, scrapes and bruises adorning him. While he didn't exactly remember where each one came from, he strongly suspected his graceful flight down the hillside contributed a goodly amount.

Despite the dredges of exhaustion still clinging to him Desmond threw back the blankets and rose. He found some clean clothes on the dresser and painfully pulled a shirt over his head, trying to ignore his muscle's plaintive protests.

"Morning sunshine!" Sura said cheerfully, despite deep circles beneath her light brown eyes, "Well…afternoon more like."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that."

"Don't worry about, you deserved it the way you got those templars off our ass. Didn't know you were part monkey."

"Let's just say it runs in the blood."

"Right." Sura smiled then gave a huge yawn, "Sorry. I haven't gotten any sleep yet…been working on those documents."

"You could have woken me up, you know."

"Trust me, we tried." Lucy entered the room then, playfully ruffling Desmond's short dark hair, "You passed out and stayed out for a day and a half. I even had to check your pulse a couple of times to make sure you were still breathing!"

"Wait…did you say a day and a half?" Desmond stared at Lucy incredulously, "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope!" Sura grinned, "Oh, and if you want to avoid being teased to within an inch of your life, watch out for Gerson."

"Oh crap." Desmond sank down into a chair, his head buried in his hands in embarrassment as the events of a day and a half ago came back to him.

"Hey, you _did_ pass out on him." Sura said, her grin widening "Just be glad he's got a good sense of humor…and that he considers you a friend. All in all, he finds it rather hilarious."

"Lucky me." Desmond said blandly, "Did you find anything out from those scrolls yet?"

"No, not yet." Sura sighed, sounding exhausted all of the sudden, "We have to go through the same process Gerson went through with the stuff you guys stole a couple of days ago, but it won't go nearly as fast as we have to translate all that stuff and sort it _by hand_. We did, however, manage to figure out that the assassins knew that they were going to be destroyed by Baybars and his Mamluks. The Mongols had weakened them considerably when they destroyed the power base in Iraq, Alamut, but the Syrian branch was largely untouched…physically at least. Politically they were destroyed. When Baybars came through about 20 years later, they were practically helpless. However, the Syrian assassins didn't want their records to be lost like when the Mongols destroyed the library so they hid what records they had left in that room. They didn't have time to sort it all and I don't think they really knew what they put in there…they just grabbed what they could and threw it all in and sealed it."

"Oh, and before you start wondering, Malik, Badoura and Altair were long dead by the time this happened. They lived during the assassin's 'golden age', so to speak. They would have been over one hundred years old of they had been alive when Baybars came. In fact, one document mentions how they wished they had at least one of those three around to save them."

"Anything else?" Desmond asked hungrily. Normally he wasn't one for history, the appeal of searching through dusty text books for names and dates of boring details that sometimes had little or nothing to do with the time he lived in now was about as tempting as eating raw fish and not in sushi form. However, seeing as how he had actually seen this and had more than a little personal attachment to this, well…he found himself curious to say the least.

"Look, if you want to know more, go bother your mother. She's the one in charge of that." Sura snapped, her good humor diminishing as lack of sleep took hold, "I haven't slept in two days…I'm going to bed."

Desmond raised his hands in surrender, causing both women to roll their eyes as they left. It wasn't until they left that he let his alight apprehension show. Yeah, he had made up with his parents, but things were still rather awkward. He _had_ been going a little out of his way to avoid them, truth be told, and he wasn't too keen on breaking that now. But Sura's little history lesson had his full and complete attention now, and he desperately wanted to know more. He sighed as he stared at the floor, his emotions conflicting.

XxXxXx

1191 Acre, assassin bureau

She reminded him so much of Maria, Robert de Sable's "stand-in", dressed in mail armor and a sword hanging from her hip. But Maria was French, at least Altair guessed she was French, and this woman was Saracen! So were the four men who attacked Altair realized. Poor Altair was rather perplexed; what was going on here?

"I see your confusion." The woman continued, leaning against the wall casually as if they weren't in a blood soaked assassin bureau surrounded by dead bodies from both sides, "You still haven't figured it out yet, have you?"

"Enlighten me." Altair said stiffly.

"Why should I? We both know I'm not leaving this place alive. Either you are going to kill me or I'm going to attack you and force you to kill me." She said, "So tell me, assassin, why should I give you the answers you so desperately crave?"

Altair found himself speechless. She didn't have the slightest hint of worry or concern in her voice. She might as well have been talking about the weather.

"I could tell you…if more to see your reaction than anything." She went on, seemingly oblivious to the dumb-struck assassin, "But then another question arises; how much to let on?"

"Then let's start with an easy one." Altair broke in, finding his voice, "I save you, or at least I saved you from guards who were never actually hurting you in the first place, then you entice me with the promise of information, trying to get my guard down before you call your dogs on me and practically chase me all the way home. Then I come back and find that you have gone after my brothers instead. So now my question is; who are you?"

"Interesting…I've heard that you were a rather arrogant ass you doesn't like to mess with trivial details like that. Yes, very interesting." She said, tapping a finger against her lips, "I think I can answer that. My name isn't very important, actually, so you can call me by the name I gave you the first time we met, Fatima, if you remember."

"I remember…and you're still mispronouncing it." Altair grumbled, "But that's besides the point. You still haven't answered who you are."

"Being a stickler for details, are we?" 'Fatima' asked, "Well, let's just say that I was rather affected by your little scourge these past months. You see, my father was one of the guards who worked on the docks. After you managed to kill Sibrand, the guards that were 'suspected' of slacking in their duties were put to death, my father among them. It destroyed my family, assassin. Since then, I've been waiting for this." She finished, sweeping her hand across the room in indicate the carnage.

"You have accomplished nothing, dumb fool." Altair said calmly, "What the idiots who run this city do after I complete a job is their affair, not mine. Sibrand's fate was unavoidable, your father could have prevented his."

In truth, Altair's own words rang hollow to him. He didn't want to be reminded of those assassinations, how he had been used, let alone the aftermath of them.

"In your own words earlier, that's beside the point." 'Fatima' said, "You have questions…I have answers."

"I don't think I need them, actually…not from you anyway, not from a martyr." Altair said, "You're just like the preachers; catch the target's attention and scream out lies. Scream loud enough and they just might believe you. The only difference between you and them is that you want me to drop down and beg for it like a dog that hasn't been fed in a week. I don't care whose leading those men. All I know is that they want to kill my brothers and me and that makes for an easy solution; kill them before they kill me. Sorry, beautiful, but this dog isn't that hungry."

"And people wonder why there are so many strays." 'Fatima' sneered, "It's because the dogs are too stupid to figure out when to not bite. Stupid dog, things run much deeper than you think. Run back to your precious pack and I think you'll find a much different animal running things. Wolves and jackals tend to kill stupid dogs that get in their way."

"But what the wolves and jackals don't realize is that even a small pack of dogs will turn dangerous when threatened."

"Oh, stupid dog, you are doomed!" 'Fatima' laughed, "You really are narrow-minded as people have said. Learn from history…for you are about to repeat it."

Altair was at a loss. What did she mean? Of course he knew the past had something to do with this…none of this would have ever have happened if he hadn't killed those men, if Al Mualim hadn't betrayed them.

"However, our time together is running short and I am finished entertaining you." She said, drawing her sword, "One of us isn't going to leave here alive. Good-bye, assassin dog."

XxXxXx

2012

Desmond slowly made his way down the hall, his mind still going back and forth over whether he should keep going or turn around before he took another step. Somehow, one foot kept going in front of the other. He didn't want to do this, he desperately didn't want to do this, but his curiosity was insatiable.

He was so absorbed in his internal conflict that he didn't really notice the open door he passed, more correctly, whose room it was, until a voice stopped him.

"Ah, Spiderman awakens!"

Desmond glanced over at Gerson, who was leaning back at his desk, not even looking up from his laptop.

"Spider, huh? I'll add that to the list, along with monkey." Desmond said, rather dryly.

"What can I say?" Gerson laughed, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone crawl all over a vertical wall like that before…I can think of other animal names to add to that list, if you want."

"No, thank you, that list is long enough."

Gerson let it go as he motioned Desmond in, his eyes still glued to his computer screen, "Sit. You look like you're about to fall over."

Desmond almost fell onto Gerson's bed, grateful for both the chance to sit and for the excuse to not continue his previous mission. However, something struck him as odd.

"You certainly seem rather awake." Desmond noted, "Even Sura's dragging, which certainly puts a damper on her mood."

"She can make a bear run in terror when she gets cranky." Gerson laughed, "As for me, I used to be in the military in the states. I got used to staying up for days at a time. I can run just fine on a few hours of sleep. What about you? You certainly don't seem to have a problem being awake all night but crash as soon as the sun comes up, bad-ass acrobatic feats aside."

"I was a bartender. We tend to be rather active at night, at least where I worked we were." Desmond said, feeling as if that were part of another lifetime, "And give me a break…I've never done that before."

"That Bleed Effect thing? How bad is it?" Gerson said, finally glancing back at the younger man.

Desmond could see that he wasn't joking this time, but was rather serious. He shifted a bit, mulling over his answer. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk about it, in truth, it was easier telling Gerson than answering Lucy's more scientific demands, but he just wasn't quite sure how to answer.

"Lemme ask you this first." Desmond finally said, "What happened after I took off?"

"Well, we followed the wall back until we found that hole you were talking about and slid out that way. It was ridiculously easy to be honest. I don't think we were even followed." Gerson said, turning around to face Desmond, "Anyway, once we got back to the car, I made sure the girls would be fine before heading back down the road to make sure your reckless butt hadn't got shot by Templars. Didn't have to go far, you were already tearing down that slope, rather effectively I might add, with about half a dozen of the fools on your tail. So I just simply waited behind a rock and yanked you down when you got close enough. I waited until the coast was clear before hauling your unconscious butt back to the car and got the heck outta dodge."

"Did you see me top the wall?" Desmond asked, rather hesitantly.

"No, but I did see you scramble down it. Why?"

"Was there anyone else up?"

"Not that I saw…where the heck are you going with this?"

"I got stuck. There was a nail that got me hung up right on the edge of that wall. I couldn't get out of it." Desmond explained, "Something yanked me up. Grabbed me by the arms and literally hauled me up."

To prove it, he pushed up his shirtsleeves, revealing deep bruises on both his upper arms, resembling a handprint.

"Further more, someone was talking to me, urging me on. Answering me, even. Maybe it was the adrenaline talking but these bruises aren't typical of the rest of the collection."

Gerson sat back, "Damn…I can't answer that. It's interesting to say the least, but I can't explain that nor can I give you any clue as how to answer it. But what does that have to do with this Bleed Effect? I'm pretty sure that it had something to do with your suddenly ability to climb walls, am I right?"

"Gerson, before that whole thing with the Animus, I would have sooner run smack into that stupid wall than climb it the way I did." Desmond said frankly, seeing no reason to beat around the bush, "Before then, if someone had told me that I would have kicked the crap out of two fully-trained assassins, armed, and _in the dark_, I would have laughed at them. I can see the true intentions of the people around me and, annoyingly, have weird urges to climb tall buildings to get a look around."

"This has been going on for a while now?"

"Couple of weeks, since that last memory, when I got fully synced with Altair."

"Funny, Lucy mentioned that the last subject went totally insane within the same space if time. You seem to be rather in control."

"Yeah, I know. No one seems to want to mention those other subjects though."

"You really don't want to hear it." Gerson made a face, "It's not that pleasant. That last guy just happened to be a rather extreme case, however. I don't think he and his ancestor got along very well. Maybe that's why you're doing ok; you and Altair are really a lot alike so there's not that much to actually change."

"Except the paranoid, psycho assassin side of him, maybe." Desmond said, "But he _did_ have a rational side…that I know. Hey…do you think…do you think that voice that I heard was..." his voice trailed off but Gerson caught his meaning.

"As I said, I can't answer that. I don't believe in ghosts or anything like that, but anything is possible." Gerson shrugged, "If Altair is in you, then it's possible you're developing dual personalities, but on the other hand, he _is_ buried around here somewhere. He might have been the one to pull you on that wall."

Desmond looked up sharply. He hadn't thought of that. Both of them looked at Desmond's right arm, where his rescuer's left hand would have been. To their growing astonishment they found that there was no mark where the left ring finger should have been.

XxXxXx

1191

The knife seemed to move in slow motion, spinning lazily through the air towards Malik's throat. He saw it; saw also the source, a man in the shadows _above_ them. He shouldn't have been able to do anything about the knife, shouldn't have been able to retaliate until it was too late, until it was buried in his throat.

However, Malik had developed this thing for not conforming to the "should have's" and "have to be's". His sword snapped up faster that anyone would have thought possible and sent the knife skittering off harmlessly to the side. Before anyone could react, Malik deftly wedged his sword into the wooden floorboards and retaliated with a throwing knife of his own, this one meeting its intended target. The would-be assailant fell to the ground, clutching at his throat, blood spurting from between his fingers.

For a long moment, no one moved or made a sound other than the dying man. Then, as if his last breath were a signal, all hell broke loose. Soldiers wearing uniforms Malik had never seen before burst out of nowhere, seeming quite intent on killing them. Malik and his men were desperately out-numbered but there's nothing more dangerous than an outraged assassin whose home has been intruded. The screams of the soldiers were easily covered by the enraged cries of the five assassins who leaped headfirst to meet them.

Malik found himself instantly surrounded by no less then six soldiers. Although his impressive performance earlier had set everyone back on their heels, he could see that none of them were taking the one-armed man seriously, something he intended on rectifying…quickly.

Malik wasn't as imposing as Altair, not as tall, and he didn't have that terrifying presence, but he was just as broad, just as strong, but he could instill a certain amount of fear in people when he wanted to. And for a one-armed man, he could fight extraordinarily well.

So the soldiers found out. Their numbers dropped from half a dozen to two in short time, without Malik even breaking into a sweat. Suddenly their stance changed, telling Malik that it would no longer be nearly as easily. Deliberately wedging his sword in the floorboards like he did earlier, and, with his eyes never leaving theirs, he shrugged off his black bureau leader robe, allowing his white assassin uniform to show. Pulling his sword back out and settling into a battle stance, he waited.

Both soldiers attacked together, figuring that without two arms, his balance wouldn't allow him to fend off two at one. Malik saw this and shifted his weight slightly. When they got close enough, he leaped backwards, one foot finding the edge of the desk and used it as a springboard, flipping over their heads and landing behind them, his sword already in motion before they could fully register what had happened. One down, one to go.

The last man obviously had had more than enough of the assassin. So far, he hadn't done anything they had been expecting him to do. The man wanted nothing more now than to get away. Malik, on the other hand, had no intention of letting the fool get away. But, as angry and as caught up in battle lust as he was, his rational side urged him to keep the fool alive…for now. A quick glance around was all he needed to convince himself of it; most of the soldiers were dead, one of his men was dead and another injured but the remaining two still strong and having no trouble with the few enemies that were left. Malik slid his sword back in its sheath and, with lightning quickness, threw several knives at the soldier in front of his, pinning him to the wall by his arms and legs. While rather merciful for an assassin, Malik spared none this time; the man was pinned by more than just his clothing.

He turned his attention back to the others, but the fight was already over. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done for the injured assassin, despite their efforts. Malik was rather steely eyed as he and the remaining two pulled their fallen brothers away from the rest of the carnage, laying them respectfully to the side. The two assassins glanced at each other as Malik moved back towards the soldier he had pinned to the wall, his face unreadable. They had never seen him this angry…not even with Altair.

Malik pulled out his short blade, using it to slice the emblem off the soldier's tabard. He held it up, waving it in the soldier's face.

"No crusader that I know of, nor of any petty lord we have a dispute with…whose then?"

The soldier didn't say anything.

"You would do well to speak." Malik's voice was as hard as steel, "We might kill for a living, but we can come up with very interesting ways for you to die. Two of my brothers lie dead here, in _my_ bureau. You would do _very well_ to speak."

"You already know."

"More riddles. Seems this whole conspiracy runs on riddles and half-truths." Malik sighed, half to himself, "Well, since it seems I'm not going to get much more than that, who told you where the bureau was?"

"Everyone knows."

"Try again." Malik growled.

"As I said, everyone-" The soldier's words ended in a sudden yelp as Malik's short blade was buried in the wall rather close to his head. "We were told, we were told it was here!!" he amended quickly.

"By who?"

"I don't know…I'm telling the truth!" he added very quickly seeing Malik's hand twitch.

"You are a Saracen, same as myself, yet you wear the armor of a crusader, yet this symbol," Malik waved the scrap of cloth in the air again, "is brand new, despite what you try to tell me. There are more than one in it, crusader and Saracen both. Two leaders, maybe? Tell me, what would lead you to follow a crusader?"

"He hates Richard!" the soldiers blurted out, "He hates Richard and said that by waging a war against the assassins we would be waging a war against him. Everyone knows that an Richard and an assassin met face to face just a few months ago when Robert de Sable fell, yet Richard still lives! You and he are in alliance!"

"Interesting…that's a new concept." Malik said, honestly surprised, "Despite the poisoned dagger we put on his pillow at the start of this war? No he leaves us alone because we leave him alone, not because of any alliance. We are in alliance with no one."

"You're about to be."

"And the attack on the bureau?"

"Supposed to scare the others. We were supposed to attack all the bureaus at the same time. I know not if the others were successful."

Malik froze, his stomach feeling as if it had been turned to ice. The other bureaus had been attacked? He thrust that aside and focused on the man in front of him.

"Anything else?"

"Just a warning; history repeats itself, assassin, you would do well to learn that."

Malik lost it. All the rage he had been penning up came rushing out with that disrespectful statement and he slammed his blade into the soldier in front of him.

"Sir?" one of his men asked, a little nervous.

Malik took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

"There are two, damn it, not just one, leading them. Two people leading this army against us; one Saracen and one Christian. He said we already know who marches against us, but we have so many enemies that it would take weeks just to write it all down."

"He said he hated Richard. Plenty of crusaders have a problem or two with the Christian king but only Conrad has made a big issue of it." One assassin said, a tall man called Dabih, "I think Altair was right, but don't ever tell him I said that."

Malik smiled a little at that, but not much. Things weren't looking too good right now.

"We have to leave." Malik announced suddenly, "War is in the air and it won't do anyone any good staying here."

Ahsan, the other assassin, frowned a little, "Back to Masyaf?"

Malik nodded grimly, looking at the torn scrap of cloth with the symbol of two leaders on it.

Aaaaaaa

Tears coursed unchecked down Badoura's cheeks as the three men approached her. She was helpless, utterly helpless, something she was not used to feeling. Not only that but she was terrified. Her world was crashing down around her and now this. She clutched at Katane's mane, squeezing her legs against him with all her might, trying to holding onto his still body for all she was worth. He didn't deserve this, she thought, twining her fingers into his coarse mane, my sweet horse…he didn't deserve this fate.

From her position on the ground behind the horse's head, she couldn't see one dark brown eye open and the delicate black nostrils flare suddenly. She was so focused on the three men that she didn't notice the small black tipped ears suddenly pin flat to the horse's head.

XxXxXx

2012

Desmond practically dragged Gerson with him as he went to go see his mother about the scrolls. Gerson had tried to argue that he just been there earlier (while, in reality, he didn't really want to be in the middle of the inevitable awkward atmosphere) but Desmond ignored him. Halfway there, Gerson gave up, convincing himself that if he learned something before Lucy or Sura he could use it to get back at them for all the times they drove him crazy. Fifty feet from the door, Gerson found himself pulling a very reluctant Desmond along.

"Look, you got this far, go the rest of the way." Gerson growled, "I did _not_ get dragged out here for you to turn around and take off."

Abida looked up as the two young men entered, her surprise quickly replaced by a warm smile. She was thrilled to see her son again. She knew perfectly well that it would be a while before Desmond grew more comfortable being around her again. As much as she just wanted to mother him, she had to hold herself back. He was a big boy now…he had to start learning things on his own. For his part, Desmond seemed rather appreciative that she didn't make a big deal out him coming in.

"Looking to see if I have anything new?" she asked, then, when they nodded, "Well, you're in luck. I found something rather interesting."

She began to shuffle through the scrolls, looking for a specific one, "You weren't that specific about what you were looking for. Sura just told me to look for anything that pertains to information on where assassins were buried anywhere after the third crusade. She only said that Abstergo was now into grave robbery. Ah, here it is."

She pulled out one of the unrolled scrolls, tapping the identification number she had placed on the top with one finger as she searched for the translated version on the computer.

"Here it is." She said, "It only mentions one name though, and, while the surname is traditional, his given name is rather unusual. But he was an assassin, and a rather good one, or at least well known for I saw his name several times in some of the other documents. Anyway, the scroll vaguely describes the location where he was buried."

"Was his name Altair Ibn la-Ahad?" Desmond asked.

"Yes…yes it was. How did you know?" Abida asked, giving her son a surprised look.

"It's a long story." Desmond said wearily, "I'll tell you later, I promise."

His mother nodded, sensing that this was indeed a long story…and that it went far deeper than what Desmond was hinting at. She had the feeling that this assassin was somehow in the center of the chaos in Masyaf. She had no way of knowing that this wasn't the first time that that particular assassin had been in the center of trouble.

XxXxXx

A/N: There, nice long chapter for y'all. I got yet another test this week groan as well as a couple of projects and papers I need to either start or finish so I don't know when the next update will be. I will try my utmost best to get it in by the end of the week but I can't promise anything.

Yes, I know left Desmond out of the last chapter. That was deliberate. I was letting him sleep in while I got Altair further along. Altair's story is a bit longer so if there is more Altair in some chapters than Desmond don't think I forgot Des.

On a more random note, this makes for interesting reading/writing when listening to the Assassins Creed soundtrack (which is really good by the way).

-Vanillathunder215


	10. Betrayals on Both Ends

XxXxXx

1191

Altair looped his reigns over the saddle horn and steered Zauba'a with his knees, using his arms to cradle his throbbing ribs. The adrenaline from earlier had left his system and now he was paying the price.

He let his mind wander back to Acre, to the blood soaked bureau. He remembered Fatima's lifeless body sliding from his short blade with an odd sense of detachment. She hadn't really put up a fight. More like, she had speared herself on his blade, held before him defensively. Her death bothered him, even though it was just one more in the hundreds of lives he had taken. To him, her death was a needless one, another victim to the madness of that damned Piece of Eden.

Altair chewed on his lower lip and hugged his ribs a little tighter. Fatima's death was just another piece of the puzzle. Or was it? What if she had been totally unrelated in actuality, just a woman out for revenge who had used the current chaos to her advantage? Or had she been whoever was running this convenience? Altair bit harder on his lip and hugged himself even tighter as he growled in frustration.

He was so lost in thought that he wasn't really paying much attention around him. He couldn't hear the other sets of hoof beats over his own horse's thundering and didn't really notice Zauba'a prick his ears up suddenly and start snorting in excitement. Not at first at least

Zauba'a slammed into a skidding halt, sending a rather unprepared Altair flying through the air. Quickly he tucked into a tight roll as he hit the ground, wincing as his ribs screamed in pain. There was a moment of total chaos as loud whinnies and the surprised shouts of men surrounded him. As soon as he completed the roll, landing in a crouch, he leaped to his feet, snapping his short blade out from its sheath on his back…

Only to find several swords pointing at him, held by…assassins? Altair blinked a few times, making sure that he wasn't seeing things. Surely he hadn't landed that hard…

"Altair!" he heard a familiar voice call out, "Stand down, all of you!"

Poor Altair was very confused…what was the rafiq of Damascus doing here?

Aaaaaaa

Badoura squeezed her eyes shut. She had expected to die in so many different ways…but not like this, not pinned beneath her dead horse and certainly not scared out of her mind.

The "dead horse" suddenly twitched beneath her, startling her, and then she heard screaming. She quickly opened her eyes to see one of the men fall back, clutching his bleeding hand, his buddies falling back in shock. Katane used the interlude to shove his forelegs out in front of him and surge to his feet, Badoura still clinging to his back, snorting a little and shaking his head. He seemed none worse for the wear despite the nasty fall he took. In fact, he seemed to have come out better than anyone.

"Hey!" one of the men shouted, "I thought you said that that trick would kill the horse!"

As if in response, Katane pinned his ears and spun around, kicking out with both hind legs, sending the man flying a good ten feet. He didn't get back up.

The jarring motion seemed to snap Badoura back into reality. She grabbed the reins and leaned forward, "Run, Katane, RUN!"

The golden horse needed no more encouragement as he took off, dirt flying from all four black feet. Even though they were going full speed, Badoura could have sworn there was a certain swagger to his gait, a bit of smug satisfaction.

"You've been around Zauba'a too much." Badoura whispered.

As if in response, Katane snorted loudly.

Katane never let up his furious pace, galloping like the wind the rest of the way home, like he had never been tripped up.

Soon, the entrance to the valley leading to Masyaf came into view, making Badoura sigh in relief. She wasn't too late then.

As they flew through the narrow pass, barreling down the road towards the gate, Badoura suddenly got the feeling that all was not as it should be. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

She had no way of knowing that the war had already begun in Masyaf.

XxXxXx

2012

"So let me get this straight…No one knew exactly where he was buried because no one wanted to talk about it?" Desmond asked incredulously.

"Pretty much." Lucy admitted, "It seems that Altair took that particular secret to the grave."

"That was corny beyond belief." Desmond said dryly, "Never insult my jokes again, no matter how bad they are."

Lucy rubbed her eye with her middle finger, given him a friendly "up yours" sign that made Desmond smirk.

"So we have nothing…at least that means the templars have about as much. Right?" he added hopefully.

"Don't count on it." Lucy scoffed, "You know perfectly well how persistent those bastards are."

Lucy and Desmond fell silent, both reflecting on the cruel twist of irony. The assassins had tried to hide their secrets from the templars and been rather successful but now those same secrets were hidden from those trying to keep them hidden and about to be found by the templars. Just as their brooding started to hit an all time low, Gerson came running up.

"Guys, you might want to come check this out!"

Aaaaaaa

"I took Desmond's idea earlier and ran with it, checking out all the incoming and outgoing e-mails and such Abstergo sends to each other, setting up a flag for all stuff pertaining to what we're looking for." Gerson explained as they went along, "I think I found something."

Sura was already in the room, looking like she had just woken up, her hair a mess. "This had better be good, Gerson, or so help me God…"

"It is, you cranky witch, I swear it." Gerson tapped the space bar on his laptop, the screen flashing on to reveal a file already popped up, "There, take a look."

The other three assassins leaned over to see a document labeled, "Piece of Eden Recovery Site". Desmond nearly snorted at the title. With a title like that, one need not lose sleep at night agonizing over the notion of grave robbery.

"_After extensive searching of both existing information and new discoveries made at the fortress of Masyaf, the research teams have discovered that there is a grave site located on a peak east of Masyaf, known back then as Mt. Legam. It is believed that the Ismailies entombed some of their ilk there. There are rumors that the tomb we are searching for is there as well. We will be beginning excavating immediately. _

_You should be made aware of the fact that we have had a slight incident involving some individuals that were believed to be assassins. While we do not believe anything has been stolen, we believe that, now that they know we are here, they might try to either infiltrate or interfere with our plans. We will take the usual precautions in dealing with these individuals."_

"The usual precautions?" Desmond asked incredulously, "What the hell do they mean by that?"

"It's a fancy way of saying 'kill any assassins on sight'." Sura said rather dully, "Fancy Templar bull-shit."

"So they think they found it." Lucy murmured, ignoring the others, staring intently at the screen, "I wonder where they got the information."

"They could have gotten local help." Gerson pointed out, "Remember that most people don't know what a templar is but get bent out of shape when you say 'assassin'."

"True, but what would they know?" Lucy asked, "Research by those not part of the sect is limited at best. Most of the knowledge surrounding the fortress and those who lived there 900 years ago is fantasy."

"Unless we've been betrayed." Gerson suggested.

"By whom?" Lucy snapped, "Every single surviving assassin resides here in this stronghold. There are none left to betray us."

"Who said it was by one of us? We trusted some outside of the sect." Gerson countered, "Any word from one of them recently? How about that water management operator that failed to mention the fluoride incident involving Abstergo? He was convicted of actually putting the stuff in! He knew that some of the people that would get sick were one of us! Better yet, that baggage handler at Denver International Airport? Some spy he turned out to be, not noticing an entire experiment involving a Piece of Eden under his nose until the damn thing explodes. Then what does he do? He runs his mouth and brings templar attention to us, because who else would do such a thing? My brother and I saved his ass purely because the fool wouldn't last two seconds in their hands before squealing like a pig. Do you want me to keep going?"

"How about telling me who would be the squealer now, since you know so much." Lucy snarled, her blue eyes narrowed.

"Now how would I know about any new contacts ya'll have made in the past few months?" Gerson said, his voice lowering, "I've been stuck in here like a damn dog tied in a damned kennel!"

"Alright, enough, both of you!" Sura broke in, pushing between the two; "This is not the time to argue, especially with all that's going on. Who really cares where they got the information? It saves us time and no one, and this I know for certain, knows about this place. So we probably weren't betrayed, Gerson, so chill out about that."

Desmond watched silently, noticing the rather nasty glare Gerson gave both women before silently backing down, still obviously seething. He filed all the information he had just heard away for future reference, especially that last bit. Gerson had a brother?

"Look, if you're so eager to get out, take Desmond and go see what Abstergo is up to." Sura said, "We'll keep looking over those scrolls and see what we can't find. Maybe the templars are completely off. The Jabal an Nusayriyah is a big mountain range, not to mention Mt. Legam is no tiny hill either. They could be searching for years and that's something we have in our favor; no deadlines. Go, and be careful…they know we're watching."

XxXxXx

1191

"What is going on?" Altair asked, "Rafiq…what are you doing here?"

"You just came from Acre, correct?" Hasan asked, ignoring Altair's question completely, "The bureau…was it…?"

"Attacked." Altair spat, his face clouding, making those standing near him take a cautionary step back, "None survived…on either side."

Hasan's eyes narrowed, "Damn…we were attacked as well. Too bad for those soldiers that they didn't know that there was a group of vigilantes that like to hang around outside the bureau. They gave us enough warning to prepare for them."

Altair's face remained blank but he was inwardly laughing, rather sadistically. The reason why he had so readily obeyed Hasan earlier was because, during Altair's novice days, Hasan had been an adept and rather deadly swordsman, training the older novices in advanced weapon classes. Altair, as well as various parts of his body, could vividly recall the various slaps and stings from Hasan's dancing blades for every smart-assed remark (there had been a lot of those) and stubborn defiance (at least three times a day) he had done. He also remembered just how frightening the man was when he was angry, for, despite his normal jovial self, he had a nasty temper. Altair was willing to bet everything he had that Hasan had, despite his rage over the attack, thoroughly enjoyed thrashing the soldiers.

"You know of the army marching towards Masyaf, then." Altair stated rather than asked.

"Yes. Captured soldiers tend to have loose tongues." Hasan commented casually, making Altair shiver a little. "Have you learned anything?"

"Some." Altair said slowly, walking over to Zauba'a and running his hand down the stallion's neck, "There are two involved in this, both seeking to destroy us, but I don't think it's in the way we think."

"Oh?"

"I was told that we were 'stray dogs' going up against a 'jackal and a wolf'. Jackals don't kill…they deceive. And wolves won't really kill a dog…just make them part of their pack and rule over them. Maybe I'm taking the metaphor too literally but the way she kept referring to dogs and wolves and jackals was just too obvious to ignore."

"Did you say 'she'?"

Altair sighed. Not this again. "Yes…another woman. Just as crazy and dangerous as the last."

"My, my, you just seem to attract these dangerous women, don't you?"

"Except this one died." Altair said shortly, his tone indicating that he was done talking about that, "Another thing, how did they know the locations of the bureaus? If they attacked at the same…"

Altair broke off suddenly, his grey eyes going wide. If two of the three bureaus had been attacked at the same time…what about the third one?

"Oh damn... Malik" He said, his mouth going dry.

"I haven't heard anything from Jerusalem about an attack there as well." Hasan said, picking up on what Altair was getting at, "But I wouldn't worry too much…Malik is hard to kill. He managed to beat you once or twice or maybe a dozen times."

"Then let's just hope that that wasn't on pure luck." Altair moaned.

"Just trust Malik. He's full of surprises." Hasan said, noting how Altair didn't try to deny his losses to the younger man, "What were you saying earlier?"

"The symbol these soldiers wear…I've never seen anything like them. They look like a crusader flag with the red and white but the symbol isn't crusader."

"It's not. It's Saracen." Hasan said, drawing sharp looks from everyone, "You were right when you said that it seemed a crusader flag, because it is, but there is a Saracen symbol on it."

"I don't understand…why combine the two?"

"Well, at first I was just as confused as you but then you supplied a rather valuable piece of information." Hasan said, "You see, your talk about dogs, wolves and jackals makes perfect sense. A wolf and a jackal, two creatures who you would never see run together normally, have banded together under one flag. The two leaders you mentioned; one is Saracen, the other is a crusader."

"Not Richard and Salah al-din." Hasan added quickly, seeing the nervous looks on some of the other assassins' faces, "They are busy in Arsuf still. Salah al-din has no reason to come after us, not after that little message we sent the last time he decided to pay us a call."

"Richard will leave us alone." Altair added, "Not only for the same reason that Salah al-din will but also because I think he has a higher respect for us now. I heard it in his voice when I last saw him."

"Ah, yes, your little dual with the templars." Hasan nodded, "yes, that makes sense."

"I would hardly call being jumped by a dozen rabid templar knights a 'dual'." Altair muttered peevishly, still irked by that particular fight, "The only crusader I know of is Conrad of Montferrat."

"That I know nothing about." Hasan said, "However, I think that if you wanted to find the leader of an army, look in the army. Come, let us ride for Masyaf. Our brothers will need us if they are to survive this attack. An army marches at our heels. We must be off!"

XxXxXx

2012

Mt. Legam was located west of the fortress, meaning Desmond and Gerson had to be super careful skirting around the fortress itself, seeing as how the Templars had raised the security around it, even going as far as to post guards up on the walls over looking the plain around them. This was rather irritating seeing as how the fortress was raised above the entire area surrounding it until it reached the mountains to the west.

Fortunately, after the dicey trek around the fortress, it was rather easy scaling the easy to spot Mt. Legam, which wasn't very tall in comparison to some rather lofty peaks such as Mt. Hermon. It was, as Desmond put it, an 'over glorified foothill'.

Finding the Templars' site was even easier, almost to the point of being suspicious. However, neither assassin really cared. They hunkered down, out of sight, across a small chasm and above the excavation site, preferring to listen to the sounds of the work rather than watch it. It only made their stomachs churn in anger.

They spent several hours, sprawled in the cool shade, in a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the sounds from below. Then Gerson, who had been staring at the rocks in deep thought, broke the silence.

"I think I know how they got their information."

Desmond glanced up, "Oh? How so?"

"There's this tour guide lady that occasionally gives visitors tours throughout the castle. When there are visitors, that is." He shrugged, "She's as old as dirt, probably was around when the assassins were, but she knows more about them than anyone around. Templars probably went up to her and simply asked. She probably thought nothing of it, was probably delighted even to have an attentive audience for once."

"She would know about those tombs?"

"Probably knew rumors about it them." Gerson said, shrugging again, "You can erase any physical evidence about something you want to keep secret but secrets are told much easier and faster by simply leaning over and whispering in another's ear. Granted that's the fastest way to distort a story, but when you are running against no evidence and a tight dead line, a twisted rumor is better than nothing."

"You seemed pretty upset earlier with Lucy about some spies that betrayed us."

"Yeah, that's an old argument." Gerson said, "Lucy tends to not listen if you aren't right next to her screaming in her ear. However, I wasn't the one to start that whole argument… I just picked it up after…"

"After what?" Desmond prompted.

"Nothing. Someone else started it and I picked it up after the Templars killed him." Gerson said evasively, dark eyes distant, "Not that it matters now."

Desmond opened his mouth to say something, but he was rudely interrupted.

"Over here! We found it!"

The two assassins exchanged startled glances. That was quick. Too quick, in all honesty. Even a fourth grader would have been able to tell something wasn't quite right.

"Good, send in the excavation teams and open it up. Hurry now, I don't want this to be interrupted." A grating familiar voice echoed up to Desmond, making his blood boil suddenly.

"Vidic." He growled, hands clenching into fists.

"Aint he that doctor who…Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

Desmond ignored his friend, already starting to move away.

"I don't think so." Gerson snarled, pushing off with speed that belied his size.

He tackled Desmond, easily pinning the smaller man to the ground and keeping him there, despite his sudden ferocious thrashing.

"Will you pretend you have a brain for a moment and think?" He snapped, not at all bothered by Desmond's struggling, "Did the word 'trap' ever pop into your head at all?"

"What?" Desmond demanded, ceasing his struggling.

"For God's sake! Think!" Gerson moaned, "How ironic is it that they found those tombs not _two freaking days_ after our little raid, that they just so happened to send that oh-so-obvious email when they know full well and good that, despite our ancient origins, we do know how to use advanced technological equipment, and, the icing on the cake, they are _loudly_ announcing their find when they _know_ that we just might be in the area watching their every move. It's a trap, Desmond. They want us to pop our heads up out of our hole like some damn gopher."

"So we sit here and do nothing?"

"What does Altair say?"

"What?!"

"What is Altair telling you? You said he's in you, that he's…'still around'." Gerson let the now still Desmond go, "What's he telling you? He's better at this than the two of us put together."

Desmond stared at the ground for a few seconds before looking up at the older man, his dark eyes, so much like Malik's, boring holes into him. Malik, the rational side to his more brash nature. His nature? His…or Altair's? No…it was both of theirs. Altair's blood ran through his veins, bits and pieces of his character mingled with Desmond's. The Animus had only amplified that, awakening those lost memories and unlocking hidden depths in him that allowed him to tap deeper into Altair's personality, his skills and talents…his emotions. They mingled to become one, yet…they were separate.

Desmond looked back up at Gerson, a cold smile slowly stretching across his face. Gerson would have sworn that his eyes flashed grey for a moment.

XxXxXx

A/N: Sorry this one took a while. I know I said that I had already written out the story…but not this bit. Darn writer's block!! I was also looking up information on the assassin fortress to make sure I was right about the geography and such (some of it is still a little inaccurate due to lack of information), as well as mid-terms (that were supposed to be some weeks ago but postponed due to hurricane Ike and one of my professor's passing), projects that take up more than half my life, and a variety of other things which were keeping my writing to a utter minimum. So, my sincerest apologies. Here is the new chapter. Read it. Review. It makes me procrastinate my other projects and write this instead XD!

Good grief, you would think that since AC was such a big hit that there would be some information about it, but no. It took quite a bit of digging, and finding out that it wasn't considered a castle so much as a citadel. Terminology…(groans) no wonder I couldn't find anything. Anyway, as it turns out, the castle is called "Masyaf Castle" or "The Citadel in Masyaf".

Big Kudos to Alimah for helping me out with that research bit!! She saved my hair…I was close to pulling it out in frustration!!

-Vanillathunder215


	11. Setting Up For Disaster

XxXxXx

1191

Badoura slowed as she reached Masyaf's gates, instincts screaming at her. Even the air seemed wrong. It felt tense, like the moment before a snake would strike.

She slid off Katane a good ways away from the gate, hiding her distinctive golden horse behind the rock outcroppings that over looked the lake. Then she scrambled up the rocks, something she hadn't done since she and Malik and Altair were children, always off exploring. This had been one of the ways they had used going to and from the fortress without being noticed.

As she approached the gate she suddenly realized that she couldn't see any assassin guards. Come to think of it, she didn't remember seeing any by the old look out tower, by the valley entrance where there were normally a dozen or so guards. She had been in such a rush…

She dropped down onto a rooftop and leaped lightly down into the heavily shaded area that was normally quite popular, filled with civilians and assassin alike sharing gossip or just plain enjoying the relief from the harsh Syrian sun. Now, however it was deserted. In fact, the whole village seemed deserted.

A shiver ran up and down Badoura's spine. The last time she had seen the town so empty and cold like this was when Al Mualim had put everyone under the spell of the Piece of Eden. She hadn't been caught under the same spell for some reason but vividly remembered running down the empty streets.

Even though there wasn't a soul in sight, she stayed hidden, moving like a ghost through the streets, ducking behind crates and baskets and slipping around corners.

Slowly she made her way up the winding streets. She was almost to the square when she stopped; her senses, heightened by her anxiety, caught the slightest sound, saw a whisper of movement. She peered around the crate she was crouched behind and nearly cried out

Several people hung from a hastily constructed gallows, their still bodies swinging slightly. Two of them caught her attention and she crept forward hesitantly, praying that they weren't who she thought they were…

"No…oh, you didn't deserve this fate, neither of you." She moaned, identifying the two men as Sayid and Djmal, "I don't understand; why is this happening? The attack hasn't happened yet…but the killing has already begun! This makes no sense! No assassin would allow a brother to be hung publicly like this, especially in our own home! Who would do this?"

But the bodies had no answer for her. She turned away, unable to look at the morbid sight any longer. Suddenly, she caught a flutter of movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning she saw a piece of paper pinned to the center pole by a dagger…a very familiar ornate dagger.

Her heart sank a little as she pulled both dagger and letter off the pole. It was the letter she had left pinned by the same dagger to Kamal's door when she and Altair had left for Acre.

Her sinking heart froze then, nearly seizing as realization set in. There was only one reason why this letter would be here, at a public hanging involving two assassins, why the city was left unguarded and why there were no signs of her brothers. It all fit so perfectly now. Why she hadn't really seen it, why not even Malik or Altair had seen it before, amazed her.

Kamal had indeed betrayed them.

Badoura's knuckles turned white as she clenched her hands at her sides, her lips pressed into a thin tight line as she continued on, moving even faster, not bothering to stay hidden any more. She was determined that her home wouldn't fall, not to Kamal and not to that army. She would do everything in her power to prevent that. She just hoped that Malik and Altair would arrive as spectacularly as last time to help save them all.

The gates to the fortress were shut, unsurprisingly, but she couldn't see anyone manning the walls. That unnerved her even more than the hangings; there was _always_ someone on the walls.

Taking a deep breath to quell her anxiety, she took a running start and leaped gracefully onto the wall, her nimble fingers finding every crack, every uneven surface as she quickly scaled the massive walls. She rolled over the top of the wall, careful to keep down below the balustrade in case there was anyone below, and slipped into the tower. She felt like an intruder, breaking into her own home, a feeling she didn't really enjoy.

She perched on the edge of the tower's second story, peering down over the ladder for any sign of life when a hand came out of the shadows and suddenly covered her mouth.

XxXxXx

2012

"I'm going to die." Gerson said frankly, "This mission is going to kill me. I'm so going to die."

"Would you chill out already?" Desmond said impatiently, "We're not going to die…hopefully."

"Reassuring." Gerson deadpanned, "I can't believe we're doing this."

"That's what you get for telling me to listen to Altair." Desmond grinned.

Gerson grumbled something under his breath, something about insane assassins, but Desmond ignored him, too busy going over the final details of his plan.

"You ready?" He asked Gerson after a moment.

"Why even ask that? We're going to go even if I say no."

Desmond rolled his eyes and began to move off.

"We are so going to die."

Aaaaaaa

"I thought you were going over the scrolls." Lucy said.

"I was but my eyes were starting to bleed." Sura said, "So, instead, I decided to pull in some favors and speed things up a bit."

"Oh?"

"Well, as you know, I still have some family here in Syria." Sura said, leaning back, "And, as you also know, my darling ancestor kept journals that have been passed down for generations…all of us assassins. Well, my parents have them now and I called them up and had them look through them. All I had to do was tell them that Templars were planning something and Badoura had information we needed to stop them. Hating Templars apparently was also passed down through the family."

"Long story short?"

"Long story short, I found out something very interesting." Sura grinned, "For starters, there is absolutely nothing on Mt. Legam. So, that means…"

"They're digging in the wrong place!" both girls said at the same time excitedly.

"Yup! Secondly, Gerson didn't really dig as deep into that email as he normally does. That email was sent to none other than Warren Vidic."

"Damn. Just what we need." Lucy huffed, "An egotistical jerk lording over this whole project."

"Is he really that bad?" Sura asked, "I mean, you and Desmond go on and on about this guy but from what I hear all he does is sit on his ass all day with his cup of coffee and yell at people."

"You have to know Warren Vidic to understand this; Desmond and I humiliated him." Lucy said, leaning back on the table, crossing her arms, "He is, or maybe even was, a highly respected doctor amongst the company, amongst the Templars, and somehow he was utterly duped by an assassin spy and an assassin deserter decades younger than him and, in his opinion, nowhere near as smart. All his hard work was for nothing. Suddenly we show up in the last place he has to find something to redeem himself with. He's not going to just shoot us full of bullets…we are going to suffer for every moment we've ever caused them grief."

"We'll be suffering for years then." Sura said wryly.

"True, but I think he's main beef is going to be with Desmond." Lucy said, "He's always had it in for Desmond. Why I don't know but if Vidic catches Desmond, he's going to make him watch every second while they desecrate that grave."

"That's just a teeny bit sadistic." Sura said, an odd look on her face.

"He'll do it to you and Gerson too." Lucy said glumly, "He always said that if Altair and Desmond failed to give anything, he would move on first to you and Badoura then to Gerson and Malik. I think that little rift between Malik and Altair bumped Badoura up to second."

"Testosterone is brain damage." Sura grumbled to herself.

"They weren't the only ones who suffered from it." Lucy said, "hey, one of the guys has a cell phone with them, right?"

"Gerson should…if he remembered to charge the damn thing." Sura said, "Worries more about the computer and his 'princess' than the cell phone…why?"

"Call him. Tell him what you just told me and that they don't need to worry about the Templars finding anything." Lucy said, "Also, ask your parents if they can dig more info up for us. Tell them exactly what's going on if you have to."

"Probably won't have to but I'm on it." Sura said, pulling out her phone.

However, as the musical key tones beeped out Gerson's number, Sura forgot several slightly important things; one, Gerson wasn't nearly as fond of his cell phone as he was with all his other electronic devices and therefore didn't pay much attention to it. Two, since she was usually the only person to ever call him, and not very often at that, he rarely remembered to turn the ringer off. Three, if he didn't remember to turn the ringer off and they were supposed to be watching a group of Templars; the noise just might give away their position. And lastly, the guys, being guys, might have gotten bored and drifted closer for a better look.

She had no way of knowing just how loud that cell phone sounded when it echoed off the mountain sides.

XxXxXx

1191

Badoura instinctively bit down on the hand, drawing a pained grunt from her assailant, but before she could slip away a strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her against a rather solid body. She started to kick and thrash but a familiar voice hissed harshly in her ear.

"Calm down, woman, I'm not here to capture you."

Her eyes widened and she quit struggling. She was released and she spun around to Karim doubled over and wheezing, trying to catch his breath after getting kicked repeatedly in the stomach.

"Karim! You scared me half to death! I almost stabbed you." She whispered back apologetically,

"I'm grateful that you refrained from doing so." he said dryly.

"Where is everyone? What's going on?"

"Hiding, most likely, if they're smart." Karim said sourly, rising to his feet, "Most of our brothers have been locked up inside the fortress until they prove their loyalty to that tyrant, Kamal. Me and several others managed to slip away. We were waiting for you and Altair to return."

"Karim, listen to me; we are in serious danger." Badoura said, "There is an army marching towards Masyaf as we speak."

"I know."

"Excuse me?"

"I know. Kamal sent for them. He's made an alliance with someone; I'm guessing a Crusader since no army under Salah al-din will march against us. Wait…where's Altair?"

"He's still in Acre. I'm came back to warn everyone while he gets more information. I don't know when he's going to get back. Karim, he's still injured…I don't think he'll be able to pull off another amazing rescue like he did last time we were in trouble."

"So we're on our own?"

"For now, yes." Badoura said, her eyes hardening, "you mentioned some other escaped with you…who?"

Aaaaaaa

Malik ground his teeth as he, Dabih and Ahsan flew to Masyaf, as fast as their horses could go. Every stride he cursed at the distance between the two cities, wishing for a shortcut to just open up in front of them, taking them directly to Masyaf's gates.

He had long ago quite checking the map, mostly because Dabih had discreetly taken possession of it seeing as it was in danger of being ripped apart, but also because it made him grind his teeth harder, giving him a massive headache.

They blew through a small village, scaring civilians and nearly (deliberately) running over a small patrol of soldiers. The ensuing screams and curses in English and Arabic were worth it though and it helped ease the tension somewhat.

"Didn't that village mark the halfway point between Jerusalem and Masyaf?" Ahsan asked, glancing backwards.

"I think so." Dabih said, "Don't say anything to Malik just yet. We only have the one map."

XxXxXx

A/N: Lol, I had a little Indian Jones moment there with the "They're digging in the wrong place!" bit (anyone who's seen "Raiders of the Lost Ark" will know what I'm talking about).

Evil mid (or late) terms... they give me writer's block as, while I'm trying to write about what will happen to my sexy assassins (namely Altair…) my brain is suddenly filled with the chemical composition of different volcanic eruptions (geology), the similarities and differences between the Constitution and the Articles of Confederation (US history), the correct mixture of yellow ochre, ultra marine blue, cadmium red medium and white to create the perfect skin tone (painting 1) and the correct way to highlight a text page in order to effectively take notes (I kid you not. College orientation class, mandatory as of this fall…I hate that class with an utter passion as it is a waste of time, money, energy and effort.) Plus the projects. So what time does this leave me? NONE! AHHH!!

Anyway, (sorry, ignore the rants above) I finally got this one done. A little short for my taste but I'm trying to build a climax before everything starts to explode. Enjoy!

BTW, on a more random note, I'm not so sure I like the new layout on fanfic…I think I liked the old one better. : (

-Vanillathunder215


	12. Disaster Strikes

XxXxXx

2012

Gerson's hand reflexively slapped over the cell phone in his back pocket as it rang shrilly, the sound echoing through the steep valley. Somehow, as he slapped it, he managed to silence it but the damage had been done.

Desmond's plan had called for them to get close, very close, to the excavation site and when the phone had rang they were already close enough for them to practically hear the Templar's breathing. Even without the irritating and highly inconvenient echo, they would have to be deaf not to hear it.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, none of the Templars were deaf. Every head turned towards the source of the noise, that is, towards Gerson. For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, no one moved. Templar and Assassin stared at each other like the cat that had just been discovered by a pack of dogs. A single gun shot broke the spell.

Gerson flinched as his face was sprayed with chips of stone as the bullet missed his head by mere inches. Next to him, Desmond's eyes widened so that they looked as if they might fall out of his head at any second.

"ASSASSIN!"

"Shit" Gerson mumbled, "Why must they always scream that out? Everyone knows who we are."

As one he and Desmond spun around and dashed off, scrambling over rocks in such a way that would make any mountain goat jealous. Of course, no sensible mountain goat would have gone any slower, not with the hailstorm of bullets exploding around him.

Desmond, his adrenaline pumping and his heart in his mouth, suddenly became aware of Altair "screaming" at him. That was odd. He had never heard the assassin even raise his voice before. Glancing back he saw why; though they were being shot at, they weren't being chased.

"Stop!" he screamed out in a voice not quite sounding like his own, but it was too little too late.

He heard a shot and saw Gerson stumble but before he could react to that, a second shot split the air. Not even Altair's inhuman reflexes could not help him against a projectile shot from a firearm. He felt a stinging pain between his shoulder blades, the impact knocking him forward. His head slammed against a rock and everything went black.

XxXxXx

1191

Badoura scribbled furiously in the dust on the floor, ignoring the looks she was getting from the other assassins…but not from Karim. She immediately noticed how he kept his face expressionless, eyes glued on her seemingly meaningless drawings as if he understood…or perhaps he did. It would be nice change for someone other than her little brothers to actually give her credit rather than turn their nose up just because she was a woman. That usual got old pretty quick.

She put the last finishing touches on her plans before turning back towards the men.

"Do you prefer us to go to the gate or into the fortress to release our brothers?" Karim asked before she could say a word.

She stared at him a few moments, her mouth open, before she composed herself, "At least give me a chance to explain…" she grumbled, impressed as well as irritated.

"My apologies." Karim said smoothly, inclining his head politely as much to pacify her as to hide his smile.

"Anyway…" Badoura began, rolling her eyes, "There are seven of us here so we will split into two groups, one to go to the gates and the other to sneak into the fortress to rescue our brothers as Karim has so kindly revealed. Those who go to the gate will be in the smaller group. They will be in charge of watching for that army. Since they were…_invited_ here, they probably won't be expecting any resistance. Don't let them in, no matter what. Stall them for as long as you can by whatever means so long as it _doesn't resort to blows_. I mean that.

The other group will be the larger. They will sneak into the fortress to rescue our brothers from wherever they are being kept. I think you said earlier that there are villagers being held there as well, yes? If there are, they might be safer where they are for now, so just reassure them that they will not be forgotten and let them stay there. Once all the brothers are free, we all go to the gates, where I have a little surprise for that army. In answer to your question, Karim, I want you to take two others and go to the gates. I don't think that whoever is leading that army will listen to me, a woman, but might hear your words. Besides, I'm better at sneaking than you clumsy men and I want to get Ghaddar. A lioness might help should things get a little ugly."

"Anything else?" Karim asked, rather impressed.

"Keep an eye out for Altair. Mind, you might or might not see him, depending on whether he decides to show himself, but he will join the fun sooner or later."

"I take it you want me to tell him something."

"No…there's nothing you or I or anyone can tell him at this point that he will actually listen to. Some things will never change."

Aaaaaaa

Unlike Badoura, the very first thing Altair and Hasan noticed upon entering the valley was the total absence of guards. They were instantly on their guard, hands drifting towards their sword hilts and eyes darting around, picking out possible places where an ambush might be hiding.

Altair suddenly remembered the guard he had seen the day he and Badoura had left for Acre, the one that his eagle vision had marked as an enemy. At the time he had passed it off, thinking that it was his injuries that was interfering with his gift, but now he was starting to think that it was something more.

"Something wrong?" Hasan asked, seeing Altair frown suddenly.

"No…it's nothing." Altair said.

Before Hasan could probe further, Zauba'a suddenly jerked his head up, small ears pricked forward sharply. Altair felt him tense beneath him before sucking in a big breath of air. Knowing what was to follow, he shot out of the saddle and yanked the stallion's head down, burying his nose in the crook of his elbow, stifling the explosive whinny.

Altair frowned as he noted that Zauba'a had not been looking towards home, rather, he had been facing the way they had come. He stayed still, straining for all he was worth with all his senses to catch even the slightest hint as to what had caught the stallion's attention.

There! His grey eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of a cloud of dust billowing skyward above the valley. They were running out of time.

"Quick!" he said, leaping lightly into the saddle, "They are right behind us!"

XxXxXx

2012

Sura glared at the phone as if hoping that it would reach the person she was trying to call. This wasn't the first time she had had problems trying to get Gerson to pick up his cell phone, and it certainly wasn't the last, but something told her that this wasn't like the other times. She tried to shrug it off, thinking that it was simply the lack of sleep and stress that was causing her to feel edgy but her mind wasn't buying it.

"Any luck?" Lucy asked, popping her head back into the room.

"None." Sura said, "You know, that bothers me a little. He never answers his cell but…"

"Assassin instincts screaming?"

"You could call it that." Sura said absently, suddenly agitated and pacing, "Lucy…go grab our gear and meet me by the car. I swear something has happened to the boys."

Lucy nodded and left. As soon as she did, Sura jabbed at the numbers on the keypad fiercely, rather briskly asked her parents to keep looking through Badoura's old journals before burying her face in her hands.

They had been in danger before, they had all been in danger more times than they could count, had had some very close calls even, but that was the nature of the job. They had long ago accepted that risk, welcomed it even, for there was nothing that could equal that thrill. However, these two boys were special to her. She worried about them all the time. They were her little brothers!

Sura's head shot up. She had called Gerson a little brother before, mostly just to tease him over the fact that he was younger than her, but since when had she ever thought of Desmond as a little brother? Come to think of it, where on earth had she suddenly gotten this motherly streak?

XxXxXx

2012

"This is getting real old, real fast." Desmond mumbled to himself as he dragged himself into consciousness, his head throbbing from where he had smacked it against a rock. Groaning a little, he tried to reach up to rub at his face but his arms wouldn't move. With a start he realized that he was tied up. They apparently were taking no chances this time, tying him up securely from head to toe. Why they were using rope instead of something a bit more…modern perhaps, he wasn't quite sure. (Maybe it had to do with the author's rope fetish…)

Groggily he looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was in the shade, though he highly doubted it was because anyone was concerned for his well being. He saw Gerson, tied up just like he was, across from him, still unconscious, a small trickle of blood still dripping from his forehead. He would have a nasty headache when he woke up. Desmond sympathized with that.

Wait…he had been shot! He remembered it clearly; hearing the explosion, felt it between his shoulders. A clean hit like that should have killed both him and Gerson instantly. Unless…

"Damn." Desmond grumbled, "Tranquilizers. Used our own trick against us."

Suddenly, as his eyes fell on a distinctive stone object that dominated the small cubby they were, the full realization of what had happened hit him. They had been caught. They had been caught, tied up and they were now sitting next to a tomb. Desmond felt his heart rate pick up and his chest tighten a little. He was sitting next to Altair's tomb.

"Well, well, we meet again Mr. Miles."

Desmond had to exercise every ounce of self control he had then to not say something sarcastic, or scathing, or sardonic, or derogatory…heck, he had real hard time not saying anything at all, as Dr. Vidic stepped in front of him, grinning wolfishly.

"You really should have just stayed hidden under whatever rock you were under." He said, "But, now that you're here, you get to watch as we get the key to achieve the goal we've been trying to reach for these past years. A generous offer, really, but we do owe it to you…and your ancestor especially. After all, it his remains that will give us what we need."

Desmond snarled and would have tried to lunge for the man, but the ropes dug painfully into his skin, a pointed reminder that it would have been a waste of energy.

"Ah, I see your friend has decided to join us." Vidic motioned towards Gerson, who groaned and shook his head painfully, "Good, I didn't want him to miss this. Gerson Salar…the scheduled subject 18, had Desmond not provided us with his wonderful ancestor. So nice to finally meet you in person."

"Fuck you." Gerson mumbled, trying to uncross his eyes, his headache almost unbearable.

Vidic, surprisingly, just laughed. "Now, now, no need for that kind of talk. Well, I'm sorry Lucy wasn't here to join us for this monumental moment but that can't be helped. We've tarried too long and it's high time we opened that tomb."

Vidic waved to someone out of either assassin's field of vision and a few seconds later, the small space was filled with people, crowding around the stone tomb with crowbars.

Desmond felt his chest tighten up with dread as he watched them get into position. Desperately he looked over and caught Gerson's eye, begging him to come up with some last second daring escape plan. Gerson just gave him a sympathetic look, as pained as Desmond felt, and slowly shook his head. He was out of ideas. He was just as stuck as Desmond.

"Alright, gentlemen, open it up!"

XxXxXx

A/C: and here it is, my lovely readers! Sorry to keep you waiting but i was debating; give them a short chapter and give them a healthy dose of assassin kick ass next time or a long one now and let loose some cliffies...you can see what a chose; happy early Chrismahakwanzika. (not so sure I spelled that right...) Heeheehee, Gerson Salar...his name is a combination of the names of two guys I no. Both keep questioning me about him, and both flipped during this chapter. Oh I love my boys...

-Vanillathunder215


	13. Unwelcome Guests

XxXxXx

1191

"Where to start…" Badoura mumbled to herself, looking out over the fortress, her mind mentally going through every hall, every stair and every room. There were so many places to hide, which, of course, had been the point of the layout in the first place.

"You wanted to get the lion?" one of the men with her asked, appearing beside her.

"Yes, yes, I do." Badoura said absently, her mind still wandering through the halls, "But I'm thinking we should get her last. I don't want there to be bloodshed within the fortress just yet."

"Yes, ma'am." The young man said.

She glanced at him in surprise, for no one had ever called her that before. He was young, far younger than her, barely more than boy. A novice too, given the markings on his robe. A mere boy, watching the brotherhood, his family, his home, falling to betrayal for a second time. Hopefully, it would be diverted like the last had.

"Where to start." She asked herself again, turning her attention back to the fortress.

"If I were them, I would keep the villagers and the assassins together, that way they can use the villagers to keep the assassins in line." The boy said suddenly.

"Threatening the villagers to ensure the assassins' good behavior, huh?" Badoura asked, "Yes, I agree with that assessment, which means that they would keep everyone somewhat close at hand."

"Or at least close enough to stop any ideas they might have of escaping."

"From the inside, at least." Badoura said, a plan falling together in her mind, "Look, you can see movement in Al Mualim's old study from here. I'll bet that's where Kamal is running things. If that's the case, then the entire front end of the fortress will be crawling with his men."

She looked back at the 3 young men with her, "It's a good thing that I never lock my window."

XxXxXx

2012

"Open it up!"

Desmond found himself hoping, almost praying that the records were wrong, that someone had deliberately put the wrong information down in order to foil those who would try and steal the Piece of Eden. He did not want Altair to be found!

"Please, Malik." He whispered to himself, "Please, Badoura, please have hidden him better than this." He glanced over at Gerson, who, despite his clenched jaw, kept his face otherwise expressionless.

The grating sound of metal on stone filled his ears, fraying already raw nerves. A lump grew in Desmond's throat as enraged panic filled him, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might leap out of his chest. In an effort to so something, anything, he snapped forward, the ropes digging deeper into his wrists as he strained. He couldn't let this happen, he just couldn't!

"No…" he growled, as the heavy stone started to move, the noise of it echoing deep in his chest, "No!"

Despite all his efforts, all his vehemence and utter desperation, they got the lid off. The heavy stone slab slid off with a bang and filled the small space with 900 odd years worth of dust and stale air. Desmond had to close his eyes against the shower of dust and dirt, holding his breath to keep from choking on the thick cloud. Across from him, he heard Gerson coughing.

"What the hell?" He heard Vidic call out. Carefully he cracked open one eye.

"What is the meaning of this?" Vidic screamed, "Where is he? Where is the treasure?!?"

Desmond nearly cried at the relief that flooded through him. The sarcophagus was empty. It was just a ruse. Altair was either hidden very well, in another location, or he had long ago been moved from this spot.

Suddenly Desmond spotted something. It was old, laying half buried in the dirt where it had fallen from the underside of the lid, but there was no mistaking it; a very familiar curved short blade.

Desmond glanced around; no one else seemed to have noticed it. He looked back at the blade, judging the distance. It was too far to reach with his foot and there was nothing he could use to reach with, not without attracting attention anyway. He strained forward again, trying to see just how far he could stretch before the pain and loss of circulation to his hands became too much…

And nearly fell flat on his face as the rope, unbeknownst to him, had been rubbing against a rather sharp piece of stone, finally snapped, essentially freeing him. Quickly, he kicked free of the last bits of rope and glanced around. Miraculously, no one had noticed. They were too busy stammering in the face of a very irate Vidic who was storming around, screaming and shouting, before swooping out of the cave.

"What are you doing?" Gerson whispered hoarsely.

Desmond motioned towards the blade he was inched towards, keeping his eyes on the men, his hand easing out to the blade. He felt strangely calm. He almost wanted the men to turn around so he could taunt them. He was close enough now, his hand almost on the hilt, as they suddenly turned around. They would never reach him in time.

Faster than a striking rattlesnake, Desmond's hand shot out and grabbed the short blade. Though he himself had never physically held the blade, it felt as if he had held it his whole life, like it had been made for him. While it needed to be cleaned and perhaps sharpened, the blade spelled trouble for the Abstergo men who couldn't fire their weapons in such small quarters without hitting each other.

_Strike, now!_ A small voice said in his mind, _Now! Before they realize death is upon them!_

Desmond struck, with all the grace and precision of the master assassin within him, in a dance as beautiful as it was deadly; the dance of death.

_Stab low, out, spin around, in the back!_ He heard, _Excellent! Wait...wait…now, in the foot, up and slash the throat. Good! Now, finish off the last of them and be done with this nonsense._

Gerson watched, mesmerized. He had been an assassin all his life, had been trained in the art of killing, but never could he have even imagined something like this. It was hypnotizing; terrifying yet gorgeous. Strangely, he felt as though he had seen it before, had even danced the same sort of dance himself. His body seemed to remember, wanted to join his friend even, though his mind had no recollection of it what so ever.

Desmond suddenly snapped out of his trance to realize that the blade and his hand were soaked in blood and that the bodies of the Abstergo people littered the cave. Slowly he moved as if in a daze and freed Gerson before pressing his back against the wall and sliding to the ground, still clutching the blade.

He had killed a man. He had killed several, in fact, but the fact remained the same; he had killed someone!

Why should this be any different than what he had done as Altair in the Animus? Those people he had "killed" then had been actual people during the third crusade. The blood had seemed just as real even though it wasn't. Hell, he had even smelled it, the thick coppery tang, had even felt it before, spraying across his face as he slashed the short blade, the same blade he held now, across someone's throat. Was it because he wasn't hiding within Altair, pretty much laying all the blame on him? Because this time it was his hand, and his alone, that did the deed?

They would have killed me, he tried to convince himself, they would have killed me, they would have killed Gerson, they would have hunted down and killed Sura and Lucy…my parents. Heck they have been killing the assassins off for years and now they try to desecrate my ancestor's tomb for the sake of controlling everyone's mind! Why do I feel like I just killed someone's grandma?

_It's normal_, Altair said, _these feelings_. _Take comfort knowing that they themselves were killers and of the worst kind. You have avenged those they killed and probably saved many other innocents due to your actions. You acted right._

XxXxXx

1191

Altair had never liked waiting. In contrast to his active lifestyle, he hated having to sit and wait. But this wait was worse, much worse. He wasn't waiting bored unto tears, waiting for some sot to appear that would contribute information on his target, far from it in fact. He felt charged with restless anxiety, jittery almost. Like the time he had broken his leg and couldn't move around for weeks and nearly went crazy with pent up energy.

The others watched in bemusement as the normally coldly stoic assassin could barely keep still, either pacing around or tapping his foot in anticipation. Even Zauba'a, ever aware to Altair's mood, was jittery, pawing at the ground and tossing his head.

They had surprised Karim and his small group earlier, charging up to the gates like demons and sliding to a hair-raising halt just before running into the solid gates. Altair had apparently been expecting that and, as Zauba'a halted, leaped from his horse's back and used his momentum to scramble over and land lightly on the other side. Karim, unable to see who it was through all the dust the horses had raised, had done the only thing he could think of, purely on the instinct to save his home; he had bodily-tackled Altair.

Altair had not become the master assassin (twice) by being caught unprepared (most of the time, anyway). He had noticed something behind him and managed to avoid being stabbed by the knife Karim held. A brief scuffle had ensued, in which both had acquired split lips and more than one scratch and bruise, before Altair had pinned the other to the ground. He had had his hidden blade pressed to Karim's throat before they both recognized each other. Tension drained quickly and the gates were opened just enough to allow Hasan and the others in before being shut again.

Altair clenched and unclenched his fists as he continued to make a path in the dust, pacing back and forth. Everything was starting to make sense now, but it gave him the same feeling as when Al Mualim had betrayed them. History was indeed repeating itself, just as Fatima had said, with another master betraying them. A wolf and a jackal, two animals that normally would never run together; Kamal, a leader of assassins (Altair slurred the title in his mind. He could not, and would not, acknowledge the respect that the title afforded) was the Jackal, the trickster, the one who had fooled them all. The Wolf…it had to be Conrad of Montferrat. Strong, with the army of men he could command, and smart enough to get inside of his enemy. Two sides under one banner…but why and for what reason Altair couldn't really guess. There wasn't anything about this entire campaign that made any sense.

He hadn't been that surprised to learn of Badoura's plan and her dangerous part in it. He was, however, quite surprised, and admittedly a little pleased, that she had convinced that other men to go along with it. He strongly suspected that, had it not been for Karim's infatuation with her and his strong support, she would have had a much harder time. As it was, he had complete confidence that she would carry out her end of it.

"Here they come!"

The shout jerked Altair out of his musings. Immediately the others swarmed up the ladders, rushing to get to their vantage points where they could watch without being seen. Altair beat them all to it, totally disdaining the ladders as he flew up the wall itself as easily as if he were walking on vertical ground.

Peering around his hiding place, he watched as a huge cloud of dust rose from just around the bend, rising like smoke from a bonfire. He could hear the stomp of hundreds of feet. He wrinkled his nose in disdain; even though he suspected that they had been "invited" here, therefore not expecting resistance, he still saw no reason to make nearly as much noise as they did.

Suddenly, they appeared. Their numbers were not as impressive as what he had seen in Arsuf all those months ago when he had killed Robert de Sable, marching in a pyramid shape with the "bottom" in front to seem more imposing, but they far outnumbered the handful on the gate none-the-less. For a brief moment, Altair felt the same feeling of being very small and alone, like a grain of sand in a desert, in the face of this army, like he had when Robert de Sable had tried to invade the fortress and when he had seen both armies in Arsuf. But, just as before, it was quickly chased away by the indignity and outrage of the invading army's presence.

There were a few men on horseback, mostly in groups in the middle, the strategical reason why eluded Altair, but the rest were infantry soldiers. Distinct individuals were difficult to make out due to the dust but the soldiers themselves didn't really interest Altair. His eyes had focused on one mounted figure in particular, a figure that burned a bright gold when he shifted to his eagle vision.

The man, for all his paranoid hiding and elusive schemes, did nothing to hide who he was now. His horse, one of the big warhorses imported from Europe, was richly decorated and finely armored and had his nose wrinkled to the point where it looked as if he were sneering. His rider was just as richly clothed but the haughty look on his face made his horse seem a far more pleasant creature than he. In fact, Altair was willing to lay down what little money he had that more people preferred to look at that horse than at his rider. So far, Conrad of Montferrat wasn't disappointing Altair's mental image of him.

Altair watched as Conrad trotted his massive black warhorse up to the gate. Two massive soldiers, possibly the biggest men the assassin had ever seen before in his life, immediately followed, like a second (and third) shadow.

"I'm sorry, we can't open the gate yet. We still haven't received word that all is under control up at the fortress." Karim called down politely.

"Isn't that typical." Conrad commented, "Kamal assured me that everything would be taken care of by the time I arrived. Why did I ever believe that?"

Altair suddenly realized that he was clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Glancing quickly around he saw that he wasn't the only one.

"So…you expect us to just, what, cool our heels here in the interim?"

"For your own safety." Karim said, "After all, some of those who aren't so agreeable with the situation have very good aim with a throwing knife. We wouldn't want anything to happen, now."

Altair had to admire the way Karim was handling this. He didn't betray any hint of his anger, not in his voice nor his appearance.

"Funny how you should mention being uncooperative."

"How is that?"

"I have received word that one of your assassins has been searching for me. He has even been seen in Acre some weeks ago. Care to explain that?"

Altair leaned forward a little, suspicious. Conrad was baiting Karim, hoping to glean information on something that he had feared for a long time. After all he had seen, he wasn't about to put anything past this man. He scoffed at the notion of Conrad being a wolf; the man was a snake in his opinion.

"I know nothing of this." Karim replied, "Once we receive word that all is clear, you should ask the master about it."

"That I shall, that I shall. But, just to ensure that you keep your end of the bargain." Conrad said, signaling to someone behind him, "And should you decide to answer the question I know you have the answer to, I will wait for over there. On that overlook around the bend." He motioned back to the cliff that over looked the lake. "I will give you an hour to decide. Should it take you longer than an hour…"

It took every once of willpower in every assassin present to keep their cover as one of the soldiers dragged forward two novices, both dirty and bruised but still kicking and struggling against their captors, spitting out curses venomous enough to be worthy of one of Altair's and Malik's arguments.

Conrad glanced back up at Karim, the unsaid threat lingering in the air, "Remember; you have one hour."

XxXxXx

A/N: FINALLY!! rawr, that writer's block was baaaaaaad! This was probably the most painful thing I've ever had to write. But anyway, thank you to all you wonderful reviewers!! Those reviews kept me holding the whip over the muse's head, forcing her to think! she wasn't thrilled (obviously)... but for all the waiters, I now deliver and, as promised, there's lots of Altair.

lol, I had to put the horse sneering in there. I don't know how familiar everyone is with horses but they do have facial expressions and they can sneer, I have seen it (it was, unfortunately, my own horse sneering at me for giving him an apple that didn't meet his considerably high standards....)

-Vanillathunder215


	14. See You Again?

XxXxXx

1191

As she clambered up the fortress wall to her window, Badoura silently thanked her little brothers for all the times they had "accidentally" locked her out of her room (for the first and last time), forcing her to climb up to her window. She knew this wall intimately, climbing up it without a second thought, her hands finding familiar cracks and crevices and out-jutting rocks.

Without pausing, she glanced back down over her shoulder to see how her three charges were doing.

The three young men were quite a ways behind her, having some difficulty. Not enough practice, she thought. She presumed, more or less correctly, that they had been some of the more obedient students, ones that had never had to be peeled off a wall or a dragged off a rooftop that they weren't supposed to be on. She sighed and shook her head. It had been wonderful practice.

Finally reaching her destination, she reached up and pushed the window open, gracefully slipping inside her room. Several seconds later the three younger assassins joined her, falling through the window with far less grace, only to be greeted by an over-joyous Ghaddar. To their credit, they didn't make a noise or panic as they huge white lioness rushed up to them, trying to get them to play with her, but the look on their faces was priceless. Such as it was, Badoura felt the need to apologize both for laughing at them and forgetting to warn them that Ghaddar was often over-enthusiastic in her greetings.

Once everyone recovered from their shock and calmed the lioness down, they crept out into the hallway, more alert than they had ever been in their lives for the smallest sign of anyone approaching. It was nerve-wracking for Badoura, who could move as silently as her cat, for every noise that they made echoed off the stone walls made her wince, imagining every unfriendly ear in the place perking up.

After what seemed like hours, they approached the entrance hall without meeting anyone. If anything, that only made things worse for Badoura. Whenever guards were absent, that meant things were about to go south in a hurry. The other option was that there simply weren't any guards posted or patrolling around but Badoura was having a hard time fathoming someone being that arrogantly stupid as to not post any guards.

As it turned out, Kamal DID have guards posted, but only in sparse points around the upper level of the entrance hall, mostly by the master's study. The rest were lounging around, as if waiting for something.

Fools, Badoura thought viciously to herself, incompetent fools.

"Where is Conrad? He was supposed to have been here hours ago!" a too familiar voice bellowed, grating everyone's nerves.

No one had an answer for Kamal, which made Badoura smirk, but more or less ignored him as he continued to rant, cursing the slowness of the Templars, the stupidity of the "rebellious" assassins, Altair, the weather, the color of the sand and just about anything else he could think of. All the while, no one noticed as four assassins slipped down the stairs to the under-ground levels like pale ghosts in the shadows.

Unlike the more ordered halls above, the underground levels snaked and twisted in a maze-like fashion, designed to confuse any enemy that might decide to poke around down there. However, the four had little trouble navigating the confusing halls.

"Badoura, over here!" a hoarse whisper shattered the eerie silence.

"Taj!" Badoura dashed over to one of the rooms that lined a short hallway, making up one of the storage wings.

"Thank Allah you're here! I thought you were dead…"

"Is everyone alright?" she asked, pulling out the lock pick she kept disguised as a hairpin and inserted it into the lock.

"Save the souls who were hung as an example, yes." Taj said, his voice turning sharp and an angry light leaping into his dark eyes.

"I know…I saw."

"You and Karim are our only hope now." Taj said a bit more soberly, "I…I don't think any of the rafiqs are alive to help us now."

"What?" Badoura froze, the pick slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers, "What do you mean?"

"The bureaus in Acre, Jerusalem and Damascus were attacked simultaneously, to ensure that there were no surprises from outside. We knew you and Altair had left for Acre…that's why we thought you were dead."

"Malik…Altair." Badoura nearly staggered back, feeling as if someone had just punched her in the gut, all the air leaving her lungs. "Altair told me to come back, to warn everyone, while he took care of things in Acre…he…I…"

For the second time that day, Badoura felt her eyes sting as tears began to well up, threatening to spill down her cheeks. It was impossible…they couldn't be dead! Malik was a deadly fighter, even with his missing arm, and those men of his…they were just as good! Muzaffar, though old, had several strong men with him and Hasan...well, he would have a grand time thrashing anyone who dared entered his bureau with malicious intent. Altair…was Altair. No matter how accident-prone he was, she could never imagine him getting killed in that manner. No, she couldn't imagine ANY of them dead…could she?

"Badoura!"

Badoura started and suddenly realized that Taj had been calling her name for a while.

"Baddie, listen to me." He said sternly, "While I can't imagine them dead either, we have to act as if we are the only ones left. I'm not about to let this fool get away with this, but we can't do it unless you pull yourself together!"

It took a good deal of willpower to shove all her grief aside, but once she found that small spark of anger in her, a small spark that very quickly burst into flames, she was easily able to get herself under control.

Brown eyes seemed to burst into flame suddenly as the anger turned to rage, screaming for revenge, bloodthirsty and ravenous. Her face became as stony, as expressionless as any good assassin, save for those ire-filled eyes.

She shoved the lock pick back into the lock fiercely and, as if the lock sensed her mood and was afraid to push her too much, it sprang almost instantly open.

"Let's go." She said in a voice so cold that everyone around her shivered.

Aaaaaaa

"So now what?" Karim asked, "We have an hour, that's not a lot of time…"

"We wait."

Everyone spun around to face Altair, who, in complete contrast to his earlier jittery mood, was seemingly back to being his usual stoic, cold self.

"Wait for what?"

"Just wait." He said, his tone indicating that the conversation was over.

He turned away, leaving them to bicker amongst themselves, and strode silently over to Zauba'a, running his hand down the stallion's long nose. From here, their voices were nothing but a low murmur, easily ignored, but he couldn't ignore the feel of eyes boring a hole into his back. He glanced back over his shoulder, his grey eyes meeting those of Hasan. For a long moment his dark eyes scrutinized him, reminding Altair that Hasan was one of the very few people, aside from Al Mualim, that made him feel as if he were actually looking _into_ him, seeing his thoughts, his emotions. He didn't say anything, didn't have to say anything, for he was positive that Hasan understood. Sure enough, Hasan suddenly gave him a small smile and turned away.

Altair couldn't help but bristle slightly at Hasan's silent acquiescence of permission. He was going to go through with this whether he had permission or not. Heck, the ghost of his long-dead mentor could have appeared in front of him and forbid him from doing it and he still wouldn't listen. He had a mission to do; a mission that had been going on for far too long, and he intended to finish it. Nothing was going to stand in his way. Nothing.

His fingers idly combed through his stallion's mane, the only hint of his impatience in his otherwise calm appearance. He tried to channel all his impatient energy through his fingers, willing it to leave his mind and body. He didn't have much longer to wait; he knew exactly how long it would take. He just wished that they would hurry up.

XxXxXx

2012

"What the hell…? Sura, are you sure this is the right place?" Lucy asked.

"Of course I'm sure." Sura said slowly, her eyes scanning the area suspiciously, "But I get your meaning…where is everybody?"

The area was deserted, with signs that someone had left in a hurry. But everything was silent, dead silent, in a way that made both girls' skin crawl uneasily.

"What if…?" Lucy began but Sura quickly cut her off.

"Let's not play the 'what-if' game just yet." She said, a little more sharply than she intended, "Let's just look around and see what we find first, yes?"

She had been on edge ever since they had left the compound in Hama, Lucy noted, not acting like herself and far more…Badoura-like?

It was the only word that Lucy could come up with, having become familiar with the strong-willed female assassin through Desmond's sessions in the Animus. Sura looked so much like her, like Desmond looked like Altair, but her personality was not so much like her ancestor's. She was more fun loving, more tolerant and far more trusting, to a point that is, than Badoura ever was. However, she was now in an over-blown protective mode, like Badoura got in whenever Malik and Altair were in trouble, which, oddly enough, seemed to have happened about as often as Desmond and Gerson got into trouble. Could Desmond's Bleed Effect symptoms be affecting those who had a past connection? Would Gerson, who was not so much like Malik, in physical appearance anyway, be affected as well?

Lucy shook her head. Now wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about all that. They needed to find Desmond and Gerson…alive.

"Look, there it is." Lucy said, pointing to a small cave opening, "Let's go."

Aaaaaaa

Gerson remained still and silent for a few minutes, letting the blood flow back to his wrists and ankles, his eyes narrowed in concerned confusion as he watched Desmond. He knew for a fact that Desmond had never held anything bigger than a pocketknife in his hand before in his life. But if that was the case, then how the hell had he been able to wield that short blade with all the skill and finesse of pro? Hell, he had had to give Desmond lessons on how to handle a damn gun!

However, given how Desmond, klutz extraordinaire, had managed to scurry over the fortress walls like a spider monkey, he wasn't too sure what to believe. He hadn't really paid that much attention to Lucy's way-too-long speech on the Bleed Effect, but now he wished he had.

"Hey…hey, Des." He coughed out, his throat dry as the desert around them, "You ok?"

"Yeah…I think." Desmond answered, his eyes suddenly snapping into focus, "You?"

"Except for this headache that rivals every hangover I've ever had, yeah." Gerson moaned, rubbing his temples.

"What in the name of my brother's mother-in-law's crotch rocket happened here?!?"

Both men jumped up as the shrill shriek racked painfully against their raw nerves. Desmond's grip on the short blade tightened, and spun around to face the new threat.

Sura and Lucy stood there; slack jawed, as they took in the rather bloody scene before them. For a long moment no one said anything, and just when the silence was starting to get uncomfortable, Gerson blurted out,

"Brother's mother-in-law's crotch rocket?" he asked, "What the hell? You don't even HAVE a brother!"

"No, but it was the only thing that came to mind." Sura admitted, "But still, what happened? What happened to you? What happened to them?"

Their eyes followed her pointing finger first to the bloody short blade Desmond was still clenching white-knuckled in his fist, then to the bloody bodies of the Abstergo workers, wincing slightly at her rising voice.

"It's a long story…" Desmond sighed wearily, finally letting his grip go just a little bit on the short blade.

Sura glanced over her shoulder, "Don't worry, we got time."

XxXxXx

1191

Malik landed lightly on the ground, this particular landing so familiar that he almost expected to see Altair and Badoura when Dabih and Ahsan landed next to him. But he did not allow himself the time to reminisce. He immediately stormed over to where Hasan and Karim were standing with just a handful of assassins.

He had seen, and heard, the whole exchange between Karim and Conrad and, like it had with everyone else, it had taken all his willpower to keep from giving in to his long-mounting rage and just peg the smug bastard with a throwing knife where he stood. Once it had been safe enough to move, they had leaped to the roofs and down into the shady square of the town. Malik allowed one corner of his lips to twitch slightly. That old short cut that they had used as children had come in handy once again.

Several surprised, yet delighted, voices called out to him, but he barely registered them. He was angry, furious, and his hand was itching badly for his sword.

"Hasan." He said shortly in greeting to the older man, his eyes still searching for one person. He had seen him, that tall form unmistakenable, on the wall, could practically feel the anger radiating from him. Anger he knew so well.

"You won't find him, I'm afraid." Hasan said, knowing exactly whom Malik was searching for.

Malik turned to him, his face incredulous, "No, he didn't!"

"You would have stopped him?"

He had to admit Hasan had a point there. If he was perfectly honest with himself, no he wouldn't have. He was the one, after all, who had given Altair his mission. Even if he told him it was no longer his concern, Altair wouldn't listen. He would finish it.

Suddenly he heard the familiar groan of the gate opening. He looked up sharply and suddenly met Altair's grey eyes. He was mounted on Zauba'a bareback, facing the opening gate.

A silent conversation passed between them, one that Malik heard just as clearly in his head as if he and Altair had been standing right in front of each other speaking out loud.

_"I'm going to do it." _He "heard" Altair say.

_"Alone?"_

_"I have Zauba'a."_

_"Not what I meant, Altair! The creed damn it all, you're still injured! This isn't going to be an easy fight!"_

_"Anymore so then when I fought Al Mualim?"_

Malik felt his arguments wither and turn to dust with that simple statement.

_"Malik, they will listen to you, Karim and Hasan far more willingly than they will ever listen to me. Badoura will come soon. She will bring the rest of the brotherhood, loyal brothers that will fight to the death for our home. They will take care of the body. But this snake has two heads. We need to cut both heads off at the same time or risk one escaping and growing another body. Go take care of Kamal for me, Mal. Let him know how stupid he was for ever letting the thought of betrayal enter his mind."_

It as probably the longest he had ever heard Altair "talk" in one go. But he had put it all in such a way that Malik simply couldn't argue with it.

_"You can only get lucky so many times, Altair."_

_"As long as we are victorious…I don't need to get lucky."_

_"Safety and Peace…come back alive, my brother."_

_"Safety and Peace to you as well."_

Malik let a barely imperceptible sigh as he watched Altair give Zauba'a a nudge and trot through the gate, the gate swinging shut after them. He knew then why Altair had removed the saddle was riding bareback. There was a chance that Zauba'a would have to make his way back to the fortress by himself and Altair didn't want to take the chance that someone would "borrow" his beloved stallion. He was taking care of his horse should he not be there to do so himself. Seeing that, Malik wondered if he would ever see his friend alive again.

"I forgive you, my brother." He murmured, his voice going unheard on the wind.

Aaaaaaa

Badoura, running down the hill with most of the brotherhood at her heels, saw someone exiting through the gate. Though she couldn't see who it was, she had that gut feeling. She just knew, deep in her heart, who it was. She knew, also, that, had she arrived just ten seconds earlier, that it wouldn't have made a difference; she wouldn't have, couldn't have, stopped him. She just hoped with all her heart that he would come out alive.

XxXxXx

2012

"And then you came flying in here like a bat out of hell, screaming about your brother's mother-in-law's crotch rocket." Desmond finished.

Lucy and Sura stood there, slightly slack-jawed.

"Wait." Lucy said, "_You_ killed them?"

"Don't sound too surprised." Desmond said dryly.

"I'm sorry, Des, but you…you had…what the hell, you cut yourself with a _pocketknife_!" Lucy blurted out.

Desmond looked over the short blade, "I just got skills, hidden skills."

"Right, well, if mad ninja over here is finished, shall we go?" Sura said, "This place is giving me the creeps."

"Wait!" Desmond cried out suddenly, "I don't understand something… This blade was his. I know it was. But who…?"

"Who was buried here?" Sura finished for him, "Not Altair. I was mistaken in that. You see, Badoura did not want anyone finding them so she was pretty sneaky how she went about that, but I'll explain that later. Whoever was buried here is long gone, how or why I don't know, but it could very well have been one of his children or grandchildren or even his great-grandchildren. He passed his weapons on to his kids when he died, that much Badoura did tell us."

"So we still don't know where Altair is." Desmond said, sounding rather deflated, his exhaustion showing for the first time.

"That's what I was going to explain!" Sura snarled, arms waving in the air, "But not here. Let's go, in the car, away from creepy-ville!"

Aaaaaaa

"So you found the REAL site? Are you SURE?" Gerson asked later in the car, watching as Lucy bandaged his cut up wrists.

"Yes I'm sure!" Sura growled, trying not to let her frustration at both Gerson's and Desmond's continuous doubtful questions show by slamming her foot on the gas pedal, "It wasn't even Badoura who wrote it!"

"Excuse me?"

"It was dated after she died." Sura said, tapping the gas pedal, "Her daughter wrote it. Apparently, all three were buried together."

"Then let's go." Desmond broke in, cutting Gerson off.

"For the love of…" Gerson muttered, his head still throbbing, "Right now?"

"No next week." Desmond shot back, "Yes right now! At least let's make sure no one is poking around there."

"If they aren't?"

"We can go home."

"If they are?"

"We…go home and plan to get them out?" Desmond said brightly.

Gerson gave him a glare that would have made hell freeze over, but Desmond knew exactly where his bargaining chip lay, which also happened to be one of Gerson's few weaknesses.

"Hey, Sura…put your foot down!"

Aaaaaaa

Half an hour later, the four found themselves climbing up a dangerously steep slope to a cliff that supposedly over looked the fortress. It was slow going given that the smallest slip could spell disaster and the further up they went, the rougher the going was. Gerson in particular was having trouble, but it wasn't because the ex-Marine was bad at climbing. He still wasn't talking to Desmond, or Sura for that matter, for utilizing his major weakness against him. Sura's mad bat-out-of-hell driving could make even the most iron-stomached person sick but for the motion sickness prone Gerson it was pure hell.

"Oh thank God!" he heard Lucy exclaim and allowed his eyes to dart up towards her voice for a second, realizing how close the top was, before concentrating on the rock before him, a small smile cracking his face. Poor Lucy was having an even rougher time then him. Too much time in the lab, he thought, she's out of shape.

Finally, he scrambled up the last few feet and joined the other three on the edge. He raised his eyes up and at that moment, every thought he had in his head flew out and was forgotten.

The view was spectacular; a perfect view of the castle and the surrounding town. Gerson allowed his mind to imagine what it must have been like back when Malik, Altair and Badoura were still alive, when the castle stood in all it's intimidating glory, well maintained and occupied, the village around it kept quiet by the assassin's presence. The wind blew in his face and for a split second he could have sworn he heard an eagle cry out.

He glanced over at the other three, smiling a little at how entranced they were, at how Sura and Desmond's eyes were slightly out of focus, like they too had been imagining that they were looking at another time.

He took a moment to glance around the cliff itself. It was mostly flat but rose sharply again when the back of it met another cliff that rose even higher. It was there that Gerson was willing to lay down money that three assassins lay buried. Three assassins that he knew in his heart that he would do anything to protect.

Standing next to him, Sura vaguely noticed how he had turned to look around, so immersed in the view, in her own memories, was she, but she did feel, rather than see, him suddenly tense up, could feel the shock and anger radiating from him. At first she thought he was still irritated from earlier but then a feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach and she glanced over at him.

Gerson's eyes weren't on her, rather, his glare was leveled on the rock face behind them. Turning around, she couldn't hold back a surprised gasp that caught Desmond and Lucy's attention as well.

They turned around and found themselves staring down the barrels of far too many guns of Abstergo Templars.

"Well, well, we meet again, assassins." Dr. Vidic said cheerfully.

XxXxXx

1191

He surprisingly found no objection when he trotted Zauba'a up to the gate, telling the man keeping watch to open it to allow him to leave. No objection, no questions…no surprise. It was like they all seemed to know what he had in mind.

"Altair."

Taking his eyes off the painfully slow process of the gate opening, Altair glanced down at Karim.

"Get back in one piece, yes?" he said, "Badoura might have a fit if you didn't. You would find yourself tied up in the fortress for the rest of your life!"

"Wouldn't be the first time I've been tied up by a woman." Altair quipped.

The gate finally opened just enough to allow the mounted assassin through.

"Safety and Peace." Altair said, looking beyond Karim for a moment, his eyes focused elsewhere, before giving Zauba'a a nudge with his heels and trotting through, disappearing quickly through the gate.

Karim watched as the gate slowly creaked shut, more aware of the subtle under meaning of his words than Altair himself was. He knew that Altair was probably heading for his death, but he would not deny him his mission.

The gate swung shut with a groaning snap. He was gone. Karim couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see Altair alive again.

His musings were interrupted by a slight commotion behind him. Turning he saw that Altair had been right in telling them to wait. His eyes widened when he saw Malik, looking decidedly irritated and rather homicidal, but his heart soared when he saw Badoura, leading the small, yet powerful, army of assassins behind her, each one bristling with angry determination.

They stood a chance after all.

Aaaaaaa

Altair barely registered the sound of the gate crashing shut behind him as he walked Zauba'a through the sea of soldiers. They looked at him disdainfully, sneering at him, but parted before him to let him pass. He barely looked at them, his eyes focused straight ahead, but he knew where each and every single one them was at all times, knew where their weapons were and whose hand was twitching. He was focused, but he wasn't unaware.

He passed the first row of horsemen; the gigantic European warhorses dwarfing Zauba'a, their hoofs alone were twice as big as Altair's hand fully splayed out and their heads almost the size of his torso. They pinned their ears as the smaller grey stallion walked by, stretching their armored necks out and snapping at him, teeth appearing from beneath a heavy metal faceplate. As focused as his master, Zauba'a only flicked an ear at them, never hesitating in his stride.

It seemed to last forever, that ride through the army. Altair felt as if he were suffocating from the heat he felt rising from these men, the heat of battle-lust, the heat of war. But finally he maneuvered through the last line.

As he left them behind, he found himself blissfully alone. He basked in the solitude for the few fleeting moments he knew he had, allowing it to flow over him, taking over his senses and soothing frayed nerves.

The rhythmic sound of the horse's hoofs beneath him, the whispering voice of the wind that brought the smells not of war and bloodshed, the coppery smell of blood, the musk of fear or the sickly sweet scent of death, but a fresh breath of freedom, the perfume of life. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling it flow through him, soothing frayed nerves, calming his over-active mind, taking away fears, doubts and impatience. It was like opening a window and allowing the breeze to rush through, sweeping out the stale hot air and blowing away all the dust and dirt.

When he opened his eyes again he felt renewed, charged with eager energy. Only his grey eyes betrayed his stoic expressionless face, gleaming with determination. He no longer felt the pain from his battered body, is broken ribs, no longer did he feel concerned about the army he had just left behind him. He trusted Malik, Hasan, Karim and Badoura to take care of them, to carry out their end of the mission. He had his own set before him, a target, a job that he would not fail. The two novices would go home alive and well and Conrad and his two hulking bodyguards would the consequences of crossing the assassins. It would be the last thing they ever learned, Altair would make sure of it. They would not escape the master assassin's wrath. He would succeed…

…Or die trying.

XxXxXx

A/N: FINALLY!!! ~laughs insanely~ the muse returns!!! ~collapses in exhaustion~

lol, I SWEAR this is the last chappy before all the action starts. I've been dangling it over y'alls heads now for a while and I promise I won't be mean....much longer ~evil grin~

Thank you Thank you THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart to all you wonderful viewers, reviewers, fav-ers, alert-ers, visitors and those who have wandered in on accident but stayed anyway!! It was for you that I threatened the muses with various tortures and threats of death to get this out. Keep the reviews coming and I'll go faster!! (or threaten more, which ever comes first!!! ;p )

-Vanillathunder215


End file.
